


Warm Blood

by brazenedMinstrel, Greypaws



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Netflix Series), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Magic, Major Character Injury, Sword Fighting, There was only one tub, Tissaia is smol, eventually, ft. fringilla, graphic descriptions of wounds, mental manipulation, slight mentions of nudity, smolssaia, starts in episode 8, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 86,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenedMinstrel/pseuds/brazenedMinstrel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greypaws/pseuds/Greypaws
Summary: Just as the battle of sodden begins, Tissaia slips away to speak with Fringilla and hopefully end things before more lives are lost. Unfortunately she is met with a blade instead and nearly dies, her magic is suppressed by the properties of the dimeritium blade. Yen finds her clinging to life on the battlefield.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 240
Kudos: 475





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If Fringilla really wanted to get rid of Tissaia before the battle of sodden, she would have done a bit more than throw dimeritium power into her face. And remember how Fringilla gutted a guy in Cintra? 
> 
> That got us thinking, and then there was this fic.

_(I (brazenedMinstrel) made this soundtrack for the fic, since I study composition at a conservatory and love to amp up the drama with some music. Please listen for the full experience and check the soundcloud page for details on how the song syncs up with the fic)_

* * *

“It's not too late.”

Tissaia was already chilled to the bone. As a sorceress, she wasn’t very accustomed to dark forests with mist that clung to her clothing and crept into her body. The comfortable halls of a castle or her own well-warmed chambers in Aretuza were much more preferable over this. Though perhaps the cold wasn’t even from the mist, the forest or the time of day. Perhaps it was something else. Seeing that her former apprentice Fringilla had turned on her and the rest of the defenders in the old ruin, that was what struck her so deeply. And still, the impeccable Tissaia de Vries kept her chin high, still she assumed a proud stance. 

Fringilla didn’t seem to be impressed by her former mentor’s restraint. “I did tell you to stay out of this,” she said, staring Tissaia down with an icy glare. 

Height had always been one of Tissaia’s few weaknesses, and perhaps she had never felt the effect of her diminutive stature so much as now. “You can come back,” she offered as she tried to amplify her presence by stiffening her posture. “I can help you.” 

Fringilla only scoffed and barked out a laugh. “Do you know how Nilfgaard took Cintra?” she asked, completely disregarding Tissaia’s offer and standing taller herself. She seemed to tower over her as she elaborated on her insinuation. “Horrible storm. Fifty Skelligen ships sunk to the bottom of the sea, wrecked in that horrible fog.”

The sheer uncaring arrogance in her voice threatened to make Tissaia’s blood boil. This was no longer the girl who she could use as an example of how _not_ to use magic. Her hand had long since healed and it was evident she had been using her power for things other than lifting mere stones.

Tissaia wished that Fringilla still looked at her with the kind of fear she held for her in her younger days, instead of this challenging gaze. Still, she stifled her anger, so her voice only trembled ever so slightly and carefully responded: “that was you." She said it as a statement.

Stepping forward, Tissaia clenched one fist tightly, continuing to talk even as Fringilla turned and started to walk away. “I won't let you do this. You're worth more than Nilfgaard can ever give you.” 

Was it a threat? Was it a warning? It was supposed to be both. Tissaia tried to lay both emotions into her voice, with perhaps an attempt at some kind of hope too. Perhaps Fringilla could yet be redeemed. Unfortunately, hope and emotions had never quite been her strong suit, and redemption seemed like a ship which had long since left the harbor.

Still, she had to try, she could not leave Yennefer, Triss, Sabrina and the others to face their foes without having done all she could to help them before the battle. No, Tissaia had not come here to give up. She had promised to fight together with the other sorcerers and sorceresses, even if it meant losing her dignity. For to sway Fringilla to their side could mean robbing the Nilfgaardians of their most powerful weapon. 

“Fringilla, wait,” she said, her voice short and shaking with an edge of desperation. She stretched out an arm, reaching for the shoulder of her former apprentice. Seeking physical contact was something she never did, but now it was her last resort to stop the misguided woman she had once taught. 

In response, Fringilla drew up an elbow, the rest of her arm hidden underneath her lengthy robe. Tissaia had a defensive spell on the back of her tongue, should she be pressured to ward off a fireball, a blast or enemies summoned from a portal. Her gloved hand brushed against Fringilla’s robe and when the woman turned, Tissaia felt the wind caused by the cloth on her face. 

Yet what Fringilla held in her hand was not a spell. 

It was a curved dagger, drawn backwards and out of its sheath, so the blade ran parallel to Fringilla’s arm. Her fingers were clenched tightly around its handle and it was poised to strike, clearly she had been hiding this dagger up her sleeve the entire time.

The younger mage drew the weapon expediently in a long slash upwards. She was simply too quick for Tissaia to react in time to stop it. A path of blood and agony was drawn over the elder sorceress’ stomach, as her skin split open and her dress quickly began to soak red with blood. The pain was blinding, perhaps the worst that she had ever experienced. Tissaia couldn’t hold back a sharp cry as it cut deep into her flesh.

She felt her legs go weak as she grasped at the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. She felt as if gravity was pulling her to the ground and as her knees connected with the wet leaves, a groan was forced out from between her gritted teeth. She mumbled a healing spell in a desperate attempt to halt the bleeding, something she had done easily a thousand times before.

There was no reply from the magic she had been familiar with throughout her longevity.

She tried again, when it didn’t immediately staunch the blood flow. Again and again and again she tried to cast the spell, until she coughed and spat blood onto the leaves beneath her trembling hands. 

_Why won’t this heal?_ she frantically thought. 

“Dimeritium,” Fringilla said nonchalantly, wiping the dagger clean of blood with a rag, which she then threw at Tissaia’s feet. Then the older mage saw it too, the dark colour of the metal, it’s peculiar blue iridescence when the bleak sunlight shone on the sharp from behind the clouds. The edge was chipped, flaky and uneven, Tissaia noticed as Fringilla sheathed the blade underneath her robe again. As deadly to mages as the metal was, it was a rare and brittle alloy. Composed of some of the strongest metallic elements available and one of the most fragile elements imaginable. The dagger must have cost a fortune to make in both blood and material. 

Tissaia’s retorting sentence deteriorated into nothing more than a wheeze. It felt as if an iron hand was slowly crushing her lungs, constricting her breathing until she could manage naught but a gasp which brought more blood up from her lungs. The surrounding forest was rapidly starting to become blurry before her eyes. Tissaia fought to keep her eyes open as the leaves rustled around her when Fringilla slowly walked up to her. Within moments, her former pupil was standing before her, looking her over with an icily cold stare. 

“I don't need your help anymore, Rectoress,” she said, looking down at what had once been her mentor with nothing but contempt. 

The last thing Tissaia looked like at that moment was the Rectoress of Aretuza. Blood was smeared over her chin, her pristine bun started to become undone and every breath came with difficulty. She groaned, teeth clenched in an effort to mute any other pained sounds. To her horror, though she made sure not to show it on her face, she felt the blood steadily well up from the deep wound in her body, soaking further into her dress. Gasping, she tumbled forward, catching herself on her elbow and forearm, her fist clenched into the wet leaves. She felt the rush of magic even before Fringilla summoned forth the portal. 

The younger mage no longer bothered with her, Tissaia realized. Her fate was sealed in Fringilla’s eyes. She simply had to wait until blood loss and dimeritium poisoning finished the job. 

~~~

_“Tissaia, where are you?”_

_“Can anyone hear me?”_

_“Is anyone out there?”_

_“Is anyone still alive?”_

_“Tissaia… I need you.”_

These calls and others rung through Tissaia’s mind. Her head felt like it was being split in two and she could feel the poison coursing through her veins. Her heartbeat came slow and heavy, pounding in her ears as she struggled to lift her head from the ground. The wet smell of decaying leaves and the cool earth she felt on one side of her face meant she was still lying on the forest floor. Yet all sense of balance and composure seemed to have faded, as everything spun when she tried to move but an inch. The moment she tried to call upon her magic, her stomach lurched and sharp stabs of pain went through her body. Clearly, the dimeritium was doing its work well, preventing any and all magic from sparking to life within her. But she could not give up now. Not while she heard the distant sounds of battle. The yelling, the explosions, the harsh ring of metal against metal. Her wound sent another shock of pain through her when she clawed into the ground with the hand that wasn’t holding her stomach in an attempt to lose less blood. She dragged herself forward a few inches. And then a few more. 

Her nails dug into soil that was so cool it should have brought comfort to the burning pain of everything else she felt at that moment, but it didn’t. It only served as a reminder of how low she had fallen. She had never felt more helpless before, and her thoughts began to break apart. Despite her great mental restraint, she found herself tumbling through the memories of a past which had troubled her just as much as it had defined her.

~~~

_‘How much for the girl?’_ Tissaia inquired as she looked down at a creature half covered in mud and pig shit. A creature which radiated more chaotic energy than she had ever seen before.

_This one has potential_ , she thought to herself as she cast a penetrating gaze to this poor creature’s supposed father figure, waiting to hear just how much he valued his daughter.

‘Six marks,’ he snarled back at her without hesitation.

She turned from him abruptly, scanning over the unkempt streets of Vengerberg as she tried to avoid inhaling the stench of decay and filth. Closing her ears to the whimpers of a beast who had already been abandoned on the day she had been born. A seed of pity had been planted in her heart at the thought of how little this person was valued. It was clear she had been seen as nothing but a beast for her entire life.

A beast whose greatness she could already ascertain just by the way the atmosphere shifted just to accommodate her extreme presence. 

‘Four marks. I will offer you four marks, nothing more,’ she snapped back. The low offering was not meant to insult the girl who was writhing about in misery at the thought of being sold to a stranger for half the price of a pig, rather, it was meant to insult a man who couldn’t even recognize the potential which resided in a dirty pen.

The man hummed wickedly and held out his hand expectantly. ‘Four marks it is, Yennefer is yours.’

With a sarcastic grin, she produced the marks and extended her hand out to him, opening her fingers just before they connected with his, allowing the coin to fall to the ground where they buried themselves half into the mud.

~~~

Mud.

Tissaia recognized her face was half pressed against it as she began to emerge from the past and reside, once again, in the present. She clutched haphazardly at her abdomen which was still bleeding profusely. Pain shot through her body intermittently, clearly she was going into shock.

_Yennefer._

The dimeritium had reduced her magical voice to nothing more than a whisper. She could feel its restrictive properties coursing through her veins, a dark thrumming sensation mixed with her own magic and bound to its will. It was as if this element had a mind of its own. Her body, no, her very being protested when she attempted to reach her powers through the veil that the metal had laid over them. Her gasps turned into rough panting as she felt her muscles weakening and her consciousness fading. With a muffled scream, Tissaia determined she could push past this just enough to call out one last time.

_Yennefer, help me!_

She pulled herself to her feet, clutching at an open wound which had since began to slow its bleeding. Whether that was due to the fact that she had applied enough pressure to staunch it, or because she was lingering on the very border of life and death, she did not know.

A voice called to her in a haze littered with distant explosions and screaming. Clearly she was returning to reality as she stumbled forward, trying to chase after the voice. After climbing a hill of sorts and lurching forward so violently that she barely caught herself on a tree trunk, she saw fire in the distance. The old ruin of the elven keep was aflame. With shaking hands, Tissaia let go of the tree and stumbled a few more paces onto the battlefield. They had lost, the keep was soon to be burned to the ground and she heard the Nilfgaardian troops shouting in the distance. 

Her vision blurred once again. Someone was nearing her, and when Tissaia was about to try for a defensive spell, she found the darkness of the dimeritium too great. A cool pressure descended upon her entire body as the lack of magic left her weaker by the second. Putting up a fight would be impossible, but she wasn’t about to die without one. Clenching her free hand into a fist and raising it took nearly all of her energy and she already felt herself stumbling once more when she suddenly recognised the purple eyes that looked had her in great concern. 

“You’re alive!” Yennefer called out to her as she rushed towards her, catching her just as she was about to fall to the ground once again.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia whispered as she felt the warmth of strong arms as the younger woman wrapped them around her, holding her upright and forcing her to focus. Yennefer’s familiar voice formed a point that she could keep her attention on, if only to avoid passing out for a few more moments. 

“Sabrina needs your help,” Yennefer stated as they both flinched at the distant explosions. “We all do.”

Tissaia opened her mouth to respond, observing the reflections of warfare as they glinted off the shining surface of Yennefer’s bright eyes. The fires of battle in the distance seemed to glow so much brighter when they were depicted through the mirrors of her eyes. Perhaps it was just because the fires of the Nilfgaard were actually getting closer. Perhaps it was just the restrained chaos the younger woman held within her.

Just as she was about to tell her what it was she thought it was, she felt a burning pain within her own body and collapsed once again to the earth. Her fall was only broken by the quick reflexes of a concerned sorceress, who uttered a surprised cry when Tissaia suddenly went limp in her arms. Once lowered to a sitting position, Tissaia whimpered as she felt along her own thigh until she found the source of the pain. She groaned at the realization, she had been shot in the leg by a lone Nilfgaardian archer. Before she had the time to react herself, Yennefer unfurled one arm and crushed the archer’s throat with a flick of her wrist. 

Tissaia found herself laughing inappropriately at the thought of falling on the field of battle to some lowly warrior until she felt something else. It was the presence of hundreds of enemy warriors encroaching on their position. She felt her voice cracking as she pulled herself close to Yennefer’s ear just to say what it was she knew was coming. “The battle of Sodden Hill is lost, leave me behind and save yourself.”

“No. _No!_ The Northern Kingdoms are close, we…” Yennefer shouted as she pulled her protectively against her chest while the earth shattered apart at another nearby explosion. “We can't give up! We don’t have the _luxury_ of giving up!”

Tissaia tried to look away from her but Yennefer cupped her cheek and pulled her back in with a sob. “You… you saved me, I won’t ever forget that, Tissaia.”

_Yennefer is right. We can’t give up._ While fire still sparked in the young sorceress’ eyes, there was also a growing amount of desperation. Tissaia steeled herself against the pain and swallowed away the blood in her mouth. Perhaps there was still time for one last lesson. 

“It’s your turn...Yennefer. It’s your turn to save these people, to save this continent,” she began, tightening her grip around Yennefer’s neck with her left hand as she ran the thumb of her right hand along the shaft of the arrow protruding from her leg.

“This…” she paused as she snapped the greater part of the shaft in two with her thumb and her pointer finger, wincing when the force of the snapping wood jarred the point within her leg. “This is your legacy.”

“How?” Yennefer sobbed as she scanned over her injuries. Never before had she seen the Rectoress so vulnerable. “I can’t!”

“You can!” Tissaia said as she threw the broken arrow shaft into the distance and wrapped her remaining arm around Yennefer for stability. She saw the young mage’s own injuries. Bruises on her face, a shallow gash in her forehead, a spot on her dress that was coloured darkly with blood. Rapidly, Tissaia felt her strength waning, yet she knew that she needed to say one last thing, so she gathered herself for a final push and whispered a lifetime of experience into the younger woman’s ear.

“Everything you have ever felt, everything you’ve buried…” Tissaia felt her voice fading and was relieved when she felt Yennefer pull her closer to hear what it was she had to say.

“ _Forget the bottle_. Let your chaos explode.”

For a brief few moments, their foreheads touched. All the blood and pain seemed forgotten for a few seconds, as Tissaia felt Yennefer’s breath brush over her cheek. Then she had to cough again, feeling a sharp pain in the back of her throat and nasal cavity. Yennefer’s purple eyes widened when a thin trail of blood began to trickle down Tissaia’s face. The Rectoress sighed, then groaned from between clenched teeth. Her eyes rolled in their sockets and she slowly sunk to the ground, losing even the strength to sit upright. Very vaguely, she heard Yennefer scream her name. 

Then there was fire, roaring around her. It didn’t consume as she expected it would, instead it parted around where she laid. Tissaia heard it surge, she heard the screams of the Nilfgaardian soldiers as they fell and burned. It had to be Yennefer’s doing. For a moment, Tissaia thought back to the moment where she had seen the girl’s hand glow softly, long ago, just before the enraged child had shot a bolt of lightning at her. The very beginning of the blaze she had unleashed now. Unafraid of showing the blood between her teeth, Tissaia smiled. She was so very proud of her piglet. 

When she came to for a second time, it was to an angry cry. The flames were still dancing around her, but they were already dimming. Tissaia truly didn’t know for how long she had been passed out. Her wound still ached and it seemed as if the dimeritium caused her pulse to pound in her ears. Yet she recognized the furious scream as Yennefer’s. Had her pupil succeeded? Had they won? Or was it all over and had Nilfgaard triumphed despite all the efforts of the defenders to stop them? 

Footsteps neared the fallen Rectoress. Hurried footsteps that stumbled and trampled in an uneven rhythm over the burned grass. A heavy thud on the ground next to her followed. What it was, Tissaia couldn’t see. Her eyes had long since filled with tears and darkness. 

~~~

_‘Forget the bottle.’_ Yennefer recalled Tissaia’s last words as they echoed in her mind while she stood slowly, the image of the Rectoress’ proud half-smile still lingering in the forefront of her mind as she gently lowered her limp body to the ground, only half knowing what it was she was expected to do next.

She walked closer to the burning ruins of a stronghold they had completely occupied at the start of the day, just hardly. The effort it had taken to catch that incoming fireball and cast it far away from their location still affected her as Yennefer thought about what it was like to stand on the border of calm and chaos. There had been only 22 of them holding that point and only a third of them had been on guard during that moment. Out of that number only her and one other person could hold back that kind of force.

Tissaia. Who was noticeably absent.

Her eyes continued to scan the destruction, while fighting back the memories of the day’s events. She couldn’t help but flinch as she looked towards the tower where Fringilla had opened a portal and allowed Nilfgaardian archers to rain arrows down upon them.

She still heard the cries of the fallen even though their bodies had burned into nothing but ash from fires caused by a series of explosions initiated by a mind controlled comrade.

“Sabrina….” She whispered as she remembered the heat of the flames from a tower which was half gone now. She still felt the sting of the arrowhead as her corrupted ally plunged it into her flesh and felt the anger once again as she recalled observing the flailing tail of a magical worm as it _commanded_ her longtime friend to commit these atrocious acts against them.

She recalled feeling relieved at the fact that she did not need to kill Sabrina herself when another explosion pushed them both from the top of the platform. While she herself had managed to twist her form and land on her own two feet with feline grace, her heart had almost broken in two when she saw Sabrina lying on the ground with hardly a spark left in her eyes. She recalled the hope she felt when she saw the sorceress stir just a bit, the limp tail of the magical worm protruding from her ear as her eyes scanned over her in a state of panic.

“I’m sorry,” Sabrina had said. Yennefer remembered kneeling down beside her, brushing a concerned thumb across her cheek and then carefully pulling the deceased worm from her ear. She held it discreetly in her hand for a moment before crushing it for good measure and throwing it far away from her, knowing just how much her friend hated creatures of this nature. She remembered that, ever since their shared times in Aretuza, Sabrina had hated insects. It was often Yennefer who had to crush the spiders in their dormitory. 

_“I’ll find Tissaia…”_ The urgency of her promise to Sabrina spilled verbally past her lips in present tense as she looked to that place beside the tower where Sabrina’s body should be lying. She was relieved to see that the space was empty. Yennefer found herself emerging from the memories of the recent past and dragging present sensations along with those memories as she felt her fingertips burn with power. Her connection to magic guided her and she referred to some of her earliest lessons with Tissaia. Just after she had thrown the lightning haphazardly at her mentor in Tor Lara.

_‘Fire,’_ Tissaia had taught her, after sending the other girls back to the dormitories. _‘It is one of the most powerful elements, but it is also one of the most volatile. Should you choose to wield it, you must also be capable of great restraint, for it is both destructive and all consuming. If you don’t control the fire, it will control you. And then you will end up with much more than just a burned finger.’_

_I can end them all with this. I can end the threat here at Sodden Hill._ Yennefer said to herself as she stepped even closer to the burning ruins of their former stronghold. She closed her eyes and extended her hands in an invitational way. She needed this fire, and the fire needed her as well because it wanted to spread, for that was its nature.

The tips of her fingers burned as she began to absorb its might, all the while using the memories of the past to ignite the spark within her and keep it burning. She remembered what it was like walking past Triss who was gasping for air and clutching at her burned throat. While Triss could hardly say a thing, Yennefer knew just what it was she was trying to say.

_Find Tissaia, we_ need _Tissaia._

She remembered pushing through burned branches and lifeless roots which Triss had summoned from the earth in order to defend them all from the Nilfgaardian invasion. She remembered another promise.

_“I’ll find her, I’ll find Tissaia…”_ Yennefer said to Triss as she walked from the stronghold, casting a spell to collapse the throats of two Nilfgaardian soldiers who seemed to consider humiliating a dying Coral by tying her to a tree more important than securing the actual point.

_I can burn every last one of them into nothing but ash._

Yennefer felt the culmination of the day’s events as they fuelled her rage and as she walked even closer to those burning ruins. She turned her head and could see the outline of the Nilfgaardian soldiers as they made their way closer to her.

Her eyes shifted to a limp figure lying on the ground. At this point she could hardly tell if it was a rock or the body of the Rectoress of Aretuza.

No, she saw the pale skin of her mentor’s face and the dark fabric of her dress. She knew exactly what it was and exactly _who_ it was.

“Tissaia,” she whispered as she drew the flames from the smouldering ruins into her own body. Every nerve ending seemed to pulsate with the heat of the flames and her hands began to glow with a power she had never felt before. She observed the glow as it crept up the veins in her wrists until it disappeared beneath the sleeves of her dress. Inhaling sharply, she turned towards the enemy as they pressed closer. She could mentally _feel_ every one of them as they marched closer and could almost trace with her mind over the weapons they held in their hands. Her attunement to magic allowed her to see every threat they thought they posed.

_‘Forget the bottle. Let your chaos explode.’_

Tissaia’s words resonated in her head as she felt the power of one of the more chaotic elements jump into her body. She was well aware that she was merely a conduit for its great strength but she had every intention of amplifying its power and dispersing it to her benefit.

_I can control these flames,_ she reassured herself as she pinpointed the life forces of her remaining allies, some of which were barely breathing. She whispered an incantation to keep them safe from her own chaos.

With a scream made up of unadulterated anger and force, she unleashed that chaos and held nothing back. Flames shot from her hands and followed the curvature of the earth. The cries of her enemy drifted up and all around her as she continued to burn everything with a rage she had been holding onto since she was dragged from a pig pen for half the price of an injured swine.

She almost felt pity for the Nilfgaardians as they screamed and fell to the ground until she looked towards Tissaia’s lifeless form and felt her anger be renewed. She funneled even more hatred through her being, watching body after body as they writhed in agony and then collapsed to the earth in nothing more than a pitiful heap of ash. She directed the flames around Tissaia’s body as she was not yet ready to let go and almost laughed as she heard the pleas of advancing Nilfgaardian soldiers who once thought they had won.

Eventually, when there was no more screaming and all the enemy troops had burned to ash, Yennefer let the fire die down. Exhaustion was creeping up in the corners of her eyes, looming and waiting to fall over her like a shroud. The overwhelming stench of smoke and pain closed her throat and she found herself gasping for clean air yet finding none.

She cast her gaze to the spot of trampled grass beneath her own feet which had remained relatively intact amidst a scorched landscape. A sob escaped her lips as her emotions began to spiral out of control and the past began to torment her once again.

_‘Where are you going, poppy girl?’ a_ haggardly girl stated as she trapped her in the barn.

Another memory surfaced. _‘We can teach you,’_ Tissaia said to her directly and reassuringly as her father responded with yet another uninvited insult: _‘you are no daughter of mine.’_

The sobs of the misshapen child joined with the sobs of the sorceress who had seen so much and yet still felt like that same child. Yennefer felt the exhaustion creeping into her bones and she stumbled while taking big gulps of air to clean her lungs of the smell of fire and burned flesh. Her vision was fuzzy around the edges when she staggered down from the hill on which she had displayed her newfound fiery powers. 

_‘Just because you fucked up doesn't mean we will,’_ one of the youngest class of girls in Aretuza had said to her. But they would. They would and they would lose themselves to the chaos within all mages if Tissaia wasn’t there to guide them. They would be consumed by it, unable to reign it in on the moments that they should. 

_You horrible, useless bitch!_ The Queen yelled, her voice shrill with fear. Yennefer had failed to protect her. But even if she had, would the king have tried to assassinate her again? And again? Until Yennefer wasn’t able to stop him? 

_If only Yennefer had gone to Nilfgaard._ If only the niece of Artorius Vigo hadn’t allied herself with the White Flame. If only she hadn’t shown up at Sodden Hill to nearly win the battle with her powers alone. 

Suddenly, it was as if a cold hand closed around Yennefer’s heart. Tissaia had cared about all her students, even if the rectoress strictly denied it. She cared for all of them with the same blatant honesty and blunt advice, even if it was painful to hear. She always told them the truth, whether it’s what they needed to hear or not. And now she laid in the middle of a spot where the grass was untouched by the flames, thin flakes of ash and cinders fluttering in the air around her. The light of the dying fire glinted on the bloodied fabric of her dress, on the pale skin of her face and where the broken arrow shaft protruded from her leg. 

If she had gone to visit Yennefer in Rinde, then had she gone to seek out Fringilla before the battle? It seemed like an action that the rectoress would undertake. Had she done it out of the same hope for change that she had tried to explain to Yennefer? Out of the sense of protection that she still felt for her students? Where else could she have been, after suddenly vanishing in the middle of the battle. 

“Tissaia!” 

A pained gasp escaped Yennefer’s mouth when she knelt next to Tissaia’s form, sending a sharp shock of pain through her body when she came down too hard and the wound in her side was jarred. She grasped the rectoress’ limp hand, entwining their fingers and finally allowing warm tears to flow over her cheeks, tracing paths in the ash and soot on her cheeks. 

“Tissaia,” she panted, reaching for the older sorceress’ shoulder and shaking it. Her desperation was palpable as her cry dropped to nothing more than a whisper and a plea, “Tissaia… _Tissaia_ , open your eyes!” 

_I'm sorry you chose power_ , Istredd had said to her. She had never felt sorry for it. Not when Tissaia had turned up in Rinde and not when she had spoken out against the Chapter before heading to Sodden Hill. 

Yet now she did. Now, while looking at her fallen mentor, at the blood that was drying on her face, remembering her pained voice and how she had collapsed once Yennefer had reached her, she felt the guilt press hard in her chest. Bitterly, she stared at the wound over Tissaia’s stomach, able but unwilling to imagine what Fringilla had done to her. She remembered what Tissaia had once said to her, back when she had still seemed invulnerable in Yennefer’s eyes: ‘ _Do you actually have what it takes?’_

After all the years since then, all the hardship, pain and heartbreak, Yennefer doubted that she had what it took. 

“Yennefer! Yennefer, you’re alive!” 

Shaken from her daze, but not letting go of Tissaia’s hand, the young mage looked at the hillside, where the voice came from. Two figures stumbled through the burned grass, swaying like a pair of drunks. Triss, who seemed the most mobile, still clutched her burn with a hand. Her other arm was supporting Sabrina, who had her own arm slung over Triss’ shoulders and seemed to rely on the brunette to keep her standing. It was Sabrina who had called out since, due to her injuries, the most Triss could manage was a pained grin.

Yennefer found herself lacking the ability to communicate any type of response after all that had happened, and after all they had lost. She looked to the lifeless body of the greatest woman she had ever known and let out an unrestrained sob which slowly progressed into something more animalistic.

“She’s gone,” was all she managed to say as she nearly howled at the approaching pair.

Triss delicately lowered Sabrina to the ground then rushed over to them, falling to her knees just a few feet away then crawling the rest of the way. Unable to manage nothing more than a few panicked sounds, Triss vigorously shook Tissaia by her shoulders then pulled back her eyelids to look for any signs of life. Her attention drifted from the bleeding wound on her stomach, to the broken shaft of an arrow lodged deep in her thigh. The determined healer then pressed her fingers into the crook of her neck and Yennefer watched as her eyes narrowed and then widened, it was as if she had found something.

“Alive!” Triss huffed as she dug through the pouch on her belt, glass vials clinking loudly against one other until she found the right one.

Yennefer quickly shifted her position, releasing her grasp on Tissaia’s hand and hoisting her into an upright position, letting the rectoress lean against her front, her head resting limply upon Yennefer’s shoulder. As soon as Triss pulled the potion she had been searching for from her pouch, Yennefer took it from her shaky hand. She was unwilling to allow Triss to come to any more harm, knowing she had an extreme allergy to almost any type of potion, which was ironic given the fact that she was a powerful healer and master alchemist.

She pulled the cork from the vial with her teeth and spat it aside, then she held the bottle to Tissaia’s pale lips and allowed its contents to trickle down her throat. “Drink this, Tissaia… _please_!”

Her eyes flitted from Tissaia to Sabrina and then to Triss as she brushed her thumbs across bloody cheeks looking for any signs of hope. She lowered her head close to her mentor, resting her brow on the arch of her nose as she prepared to accept a cruel fate for what it was, until she heard a breathy word escape Tissaia’s lips. Had she not been so close she may not have heard anything at all.

_“Yen-…”_

With a sudden gasp, Yennefer sat up and extended her hand outwardly. She had exhausted nearly all of her strength burning the Nilfgaardian army to nothing more than a crisp, but she _needed_ to open a portal to Aretuza if there was to be any hope of saving Tissaia.

Sparks of magic crackled from nothingness and she pushed everything she had left into the spell. She half-smiled as the swirling outline of a portal began to take shape, albeit haphazardly, it shimmered before it formed fully. Soon the window to Aretuza had been opened and she quickly slipped one arm beneath the rectoress’ knees and the other under her torso, carefully lifting her up and standing with what little physical strength she had left. One foot in front of the other she slowly crossed the threshold, all the while pulling Tissaia as close to her body as she could possibly manage. The cold damp air of the interior of Aretuza had never felt so good to inhale. Yennefer wasn’t even completely sure which area of the academy she had portalled into. 

She fell to her knees and placed Tissaia onto the stone floor, the last of her power was waning and she glanced over her shoulder just long enough to observe Triss and Sabrina as they stumbled through the portal. The instant she knew they were safe, she felt her eyes close and felt the cool press of stone against her cheek as she rested against the floor of wherever it was she lay.

The portal closed and she finally felt as if she could rest. Her hand blindly searched until it found what it was she was looking for once again. Yennefer felt the cold grasp of Tissaia’s fingers as she once again intertwined them with her own. Her eyes closed and all awareness of the outside world began to fade.

As she drifted into an existence which bordered on reality and the dream world, Yennefer heard a voice inside her head. It was soft and soothing, it was familiar. 

It was Tissaia. 

_“I am so very proud of you, my piglet.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though they are safe in Aretuza, the troubles haven't passed for Yennefer and Tissaia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a very mild reference to Yen's first night in Aretuza. It's not elaborated on and not described but we feel a warning is warranted.
> 
> Coral is alive! We both felt horrible about her canon demise and wanted to give her another chance in our story. We also wanted a funny counterbalance to Tissaia’s serious character and another sorceress. She also does a pretty cool move in the show.
> 
> THE CHAPTER HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH SOUNDTRACK!

_(Soundtrack! Composed by brazenedMinstrel. The soundcloud post has some timestamps in it, if you want to see how it syncs up with the fic)_

_(Art by Greypaws! It's Fringilla's dimeritium dagger from chapter 1)_

* * *

In Yennefer’s dreams, her spine was still twisted. Her left shoulder ached constantly as it had prior to her transformation. Her bones and muscles were wrought by the cruel musings of genetic probability into a shape not suited for a human body. A quarter-elf body, to be exact. Sometimes even _she_ forgot who she was. It mattered little. In her dreams, she saw flashes of fire and recalled the smell of smoke, it morphed into white hair that was long and stringy and some god awful tune accompanied by an elvish lute.

She saw Tissaia fall on the battlefield again and again and heard the rush of the arrow as it split through the air and was accompanied by the Rectoress’ pained scream. This experience seemed to be caught in a loop deep within the recesses of her mind. It seemed to hurt more with each replay. 

She woke up gasping, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her back still hurt, causing panic to grip her for a moment. Then she realized that she was sitting slumped in a chair, her left shoulder drawn up at an awkward angle and in a cramp, purely out of an old habit. She still wore the black and grey dress which she had donned before and throughout the battle at Sodden Hill. It’s now frayed edges felt differently against her skin as she became aware of the press of bandages around her abdomen, and the cool stickiness of a healing salve underneath. Her feet had been freed of shoes, luckily. 

The floor in front of her was made out of cold grey stone, perfectly uniform and smooth, sculpted by magic, of course. It took her a few moments before she recognised it was the medical wing of Aretuza, where she had gone in times long past to have her bandages changed. A shiver ran down her spine when she thought back to that moment so long ago. 

As she slowly lifted her head, she heard someone shuffle over the floor not too far away. It was Triss, who held a tray with various pieces of medical equipment and bandages. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked haggard. Her throat was wrapped in a bandage and she only flashed a quick smile in Yennefer’s direction when she saw that the sorceress had awakened. Then she put her tray down onto a low table next to the bed closest to Yennefer. 

“Where’s Sabrina?” Yennefer asked, her voice was rough from sleep and her mind was still trying to piece together the blur which was the last known moments of her consciousness. She wasn’t even certain of how much time had elapsed since she had stumbled through the portal and fallen to the floor with Tissaia in her arms and she didn’t feel particularly rested. The wound on her stomach ached when she sat upright and stretched, which made her back pop loudly. 

Triss winced lightly when she heard it. “Sleeping her concussion away,” she said softly. Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it was already more than it had been just after the battle. “I was surprised she had nothing more than a few bruised ribs after that fall. She insisted on being treated last. After you, after Tissaia.” 

_Tissaia._

Instantly, Yennefer’s eyes flitted from Triss’ concerned frown to the bed behind her. The coldness in her chest returned for a split second as she scanned over the Rectoress’ form, though she could only see the outline of her face which was highlighted almost majestically, by the soft glow of a warm candle.

Tissaia was as pale as the linen bed sheets, all the colour seemingly drained from her face right along with the blood she had lost in the battle. If her breathing moved the sheets at all, it was too little for Yennefer to see from such a distance.

“She was bleeding and she wasn’t moving, I thought…” Yennefer trailed off as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t even bring herself to say what it was that she actually thought at the time aloud and instead chose to remain silent for a few seconds.

She calmed as she watched the steady rise and fall of Tissaia’s chest with extreme care. Each breath she took was ungodly slow and Yennefer felt the sudden urge to cover her mentor up in order to hide how weak she appeared at the moment, as she knew Tissaia would never want to be seen like this.

But the echoes of Tissaia’s scream still resonated through her mind and she remembered how quickly she had moved to stop her from falling once the arrow struck her. She wanted to observe the extent of Tissaia's injuries for herself and found herself torn between being considerate and wanting to answer her own questions on just how badly her mentor had been maimed.

Within a split second she had already made her decision. Her legs protested when she got up much too quickly, wobbling back and forth for a moment, before she gritted her teeth and marched to stand beside Triss despite her aching knees. She _needed_ to take a closer look at Tissaia’s injuries, since she still hadn’t seen the actual wounds, only the blood that had spilled from them. No sooner had reached for the blanket than she felt a sharp slap on the back of her hand by Triss.

  
“The last thing she needs right now are your filthy hands on her wounds,” the healer snapped sharply. “You haven’t washed since the battle, and I’m not dealing with an infection on top of… on top of all else.” 

“All else?” Yennefer inquired. “What do you mean, all else?”

Triss glared at her momentarily and it almost made Yennefer’s blood run cold. She had only ever seen a gentle warmth glowing from the woman’s eyes. Triss seemed to be made of nothing but the scent of petrichor after a long winter and the song of a meadowlark on the first day of spring. She was always the song of hope.

Yen swallowed deeply, knowing she had overstepped as she looked to the wrappings around Triss’ throat and recalled walking past her in search of Tissaia. She wanted to help her more than anything at the time but knowing that the war would be lost completely should their matriarch fall, she continued on.

“What I mean by _‘all else’_ is the fact that Coral is still lying helpless two doors down the hall with a severed limb. Vilgefortz brought her in, and she too was barely breathing when I finally had the time to look at her. What I mean by _‘all else’_ is the fact that Sabrina won’t stop pulling on her ears and can’t sleep through the night because of those fucking worms.” Triss looked to the ground as she inhaled then exhaled tiredly. “What I mean by _‘all else’_ is the fact that you won’t even help me out by taking care of yourself, you are constantly getting up from your bed and sleeping in that chair instead.”

Yennefer felt a pang of guilt as she stood and made her way to a small table in the corner of the room. She poured a glass of water from the decanter which sat atop a tray next to two fine crystal glasses. She especially felt a pang of guilt as she glanced over her shoulder and Triss lowered her voice to make one last point, touching gently at the wrappings around her throat as she did so. “What I mean by _‘all else’_ is the fact that I can hardly speak without pain and yet I am asked almost hourly about the physical condition of the Rectoress and it hurts,” she paused before elaborating, “it hurts in more ways than one.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just afraid.” Yen said as she pinched a bit of mint from a nearby medicinal pot and tucked it thoughtfully into the glass. She handed the glass to Triss and felt the tension in the air subside as they both took a moment, Triss with taking a break from caretaking and enjoying the soothing water as Yen took a moment and humbled herself.

Finishing the glass to the last drop, Triss carefully set it aside and moved to pick up a fresh set of linen wrappings. “We are all afraid, but we won’t do anyone any favors by stepping on each others’ toes.”

“I know,” Yen replied sadly as she made her way to the triage chamber’s exit. “Has she said anything to you about who it was that inflicted that wound on her?”

Triss shook her head no but Yennefer could tell by the look in her eyes that she was suspecting the same thing as she. After a few moments Triss moved her chair closer to Tissaia and pulled back the blankets so she could begin to change her bandage. “I think we both know who was behind this. I felt her presence just before your fire, I’m sure you did as well.”

Swallowing away a bitter taste, Yennefer nodded. “We all did.” She still didn’t want to believe that it had been Fringilla who had harmed Tissaia so. Not until she had heard the absolute truth from Tissaia herself. “I’m going to Coral,” she announced into the hallway, getting only a noncommittal hum from Triss in return.  
  
“She might be asleep. If she is, please let her stay that way,” the healer said, before returning to her task of unwrapping Tissaia’s bandages and replacing them. “She has been through a lot, please be gentle with her.”

Yen opened the door and tried to establish where it was she stood. The halls seemed unfamiliar to her as it had been so long since she had been in this area of Aretuza. It was an area she wished to forget. Brief glimpses of her painful transformation tried to resurface in her mind but she shoved them back down. Now was not the time to fall backwards into the past, for she had a present she wished to exist in.

A present which involved seeking out Coral, who she had assumed to be dead as she recalled walking past a limp body as she desperately searched for Tissaia. Yet Triss had just said that Vilgefortz had brought her to safety, something Yennefer would have to speak with him about later. 

_‘Two doors down’_ she recalled Triss saying.

Yennefer welcomed the cooling sensation of the iron door handle as she held it for a moment, uncertain of what it was she would find on the other side. She knew the older mage had been gravely injured, that much she had seen with her own eyes, but how was she now? She pushed open the door as quietly as she could possibly fathom until there was just enough of an opening to allow her to peer into the room.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound as she was greeted by nothing more than a sterile room with an empty bed. The blankets had been stripped bare and all that remained which had given any indication that life was once there was a small vase on a table next to the bed with a slightly wilted flower involuntarily tucked in the glass structure.

Yennefer gasped as she threw open the door all the way. “Coral!” She thought about Triss as she rushed into the room. How would the healer react having told her just moments earlier that she was recovering and not to be disturbed, only to find out that the room was now empty of all life save for this one flower and...a set of dice?

The frantic mage paused as she reached for the set of dice hidden behind the vase. The set had landed on a pair of snake eyes and Yennefer knew exactly what this meant. That she was in the wrong room and Lawdbor, the human mage known for his ability to manipulate a roll through telekinesis, was most likely the one who died in this room. Thus she summarized that she had in fact walked down the hallway two doors to the wrong side. 

It made her wonder just how many of them were actually left. 

Pushing that thought to the very back of her mind, she quietly, respectfully, closed the door and walked by four doors in the opposite direction than she had gone before. She knocked once, closely listening for any signs of life from beyond the door. When she got no answer, she pushed the door open and stepped in. This room was livelier than the desolate one she had just left. Most of that was due to various articles of clothing and a few books that laid strewn over the night stand and the chair next to the bed. 

“It’s too early to be changing my bandages again, Merigold.” Coral laid on her back in the bed, staring at the ceiling with an empty look in her eyes. Then she sighed deeply and flicked her gaze over to Yennefer, who carefully closed the door behind her. “Oh, it’s you. Vengerberg. Are you better company? I promise I won’t bleed all over your clothing, like I did with her.” 

“Triss isn’t bad company,” Yennefer said with a frown. She fondly remembered the conversations she’d had with the woman on the eve before the battle. 

“No, but she’s stressed. And believe me when I say there’s nothing worse than to be treated by a stressed healer.” Despite her attempts at putting up a chipper demeanor, Coral looked exhausted. Her face was pale from blood loss, which contrasted all the more with her fiery red hair and was accented by the dark bags underneath her eyes. The empty space beside her body where a right arm should have been, made Yennefer’s bitter thoughts rise up again. Could she have done more for her?

Realizing she had sunk into her thoughts as she observed the older sorceress raise her eyebrow inquisitively, she shared her feelings. “I’m just wondering whether I could have done more for you… at Sodden.” 

“Something more than killing those soldiers in the middle of tying me up? I doubt that would’ve helped. Besides, you thought me dead and I quite frankly thought the same thing. Well, until Vilgefortz was suddenly hovering over me...” 

“Then he’s alive too.” Yennefer removed a pair of boots from the seating of the chair next to the bed. They stank of blood and filth, and she wondered why Triss had even allowed them in the room. “Who else is? Me, Triss, Sabrina, you, Tissaia...”

“Atlan is dead. Unfortunately, he was a good lad.” After shifting under the blankets for a few moments and licking her dry lips, Coral continued: “Philippa is… in hiding, but who can blame her. Tissaia -” 

“Tissaia has been injured and needs treatment. But she’ll pull through, she’s strong,” Yennefer snapped. The anger was unintentional, but she wasn’t able to fight it down before it found its way into her words.

“Yes, she needs treatment. Though who knows just _what_ that treatment will look like.” The injured woman coughed as she drew one leg up, tenting the blanket slightly before allowing it to fall back down. She was obviously antsy, Coral wasn’t someone who liked sitting still for extended periods of time, as Yennefer had also noticed on their boat ride to the elven keep. “Hey Yen,” Coral said, quirking an eyebrow. “Shall I tell you a story, to cheer you up? Your bad mood is getting infectious.” 

Yennefer smiled a bit painfully, all too aware of her current facial expression. “I know… It’s hard to truly focus on anything other than the events of the battle at the moment.” 

Coral mustered up a frail chuckle as she thought deeply. “Once, when I still studied here, along with Tissaia and Philippa, we got up to all manner of mischief. You can’t imagine it, since I doubt that our great Rectoress ever allowed you and your classmates to do such things. We used to stay up late and go to the tops of the towers, drinking shitty ale that Philippa smuggled from the kitchens and imagining what our lives would be like after ascending. Then we hid in the library to avoid having to do many boring lessons. There are also a few unsavory paintings tucked away in various places between the shelves in the library, so be careful which books you examine and which folded pieces of paper you open… you might find something which will want to make you blindfold yourself for the rest of your days.”

Yennefer couldn’t help but to let out an unchecked laugh at the thought of it, for she knew Coral well enough. “You hid lewd paintings in Tissaia’s library, didn’t you?”

“Only some,” Coral replied as her eyelids began to close. “There was another artist before my time which had the wise idea to do so as well. Judging by the composition of the paper and of the ink, I could tell it was at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred years before I got the bright idea.”

“You little shit.” Yennefer uttered with a half smile. The exchange between them had been such a welcome reprieve. 

“I know…” Coral said as she drifted off with a mischievous grin. Just as Yennefer was about to stand up to leave the room, her eyes snapped open again. “You’re quick to cheer up, Vengerberg. Can’t remember that ever being the case.” She studied Yennefer for a few moments longer than was comfortable. Then her expression suddenly darkened and she sighed deeply. 

Yennefer paused for a moment to allow her mind to process what had just been said. Her eyes shifted from one corner of the room where a large, potted plant sat, back to the books and bloody boots. She furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to speak but Coral interrupted her first. “ _Oh._ I can tell by the look on your face that Triss didn’t tell you about it yet.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Yen focused immediately on the face of a woman who looked like death warmed over. “What’s... _it_?”

Coral lifted her right arm, which was now nothing more than a stump, out of habit. Yennefer tried to hold her expression steady in order to avoid giving away the sadness at the realisation of what it was she was trying to do. Especially once reality seemed to strike the older mage as well, and she looked to the ceiling blankly before lowering her injured limb carefully back down onto the bed.

She used to habitually run her fingers through her glorious red hair. It was something she had become known for, as it was wild and needed to be tamed. Often it seemed to have a mind of it’s own.

With a steady sigh, Coral said morosely: “ _It…_ is the fact that Tissaia apparently has been wounded with a weapon made from dimeritium. I’m sure you know what that metal does to a mage’s body. Now, I didn’t get a good look at her, but Merigold was nearly crying at the thought. The dimeritium has entered Tissaia’s blood stream, and there are only a few ancient textbooks which touch upon treatment.”

“Which textbooks?” Yennefer immediately inquired. Her voice hitched and she felt her blood run cold. She remembered the one time she had actually seen the element known as dimeritium. In one of the last lessons she’d had with the other apprentices, Tissaia had produced a glass vial the size of her pinkie finger. The look on her face spoke volumes, and it had been the only time that Yennefer had seen a semblance of fear in her eyes. As her heartbeat raced within her chest, Yennefer remembered how the lesson had progressed. 

_‘Sabrina, come here. Hold your hand over it and tell me what you feel,’_ Tissaia had said, emptying the vial on a stone plank and taking a step back. Sabrina had walked up to the table and stretched out a shaky hand, so it hovered above the black flakes. As soon as her hand drifted closer to the table surface, Tissaia had stepped forward with unprecedented speed and grasped Sabrina’s arm by the wrist. _‘Not so close to it! Do not, under any circumstance, touch the metal.’_

Then Sabrina’s face had paled and she had pulled away her hand after only holding it above the metal flakes for a moment. With a look of panic in her eyes, she had clenched her hand into a fist, rapidly unfurling it afterwards and massaging the skin. All of her usually calm and reserved demeanor had evaporated. _‘I - my… my hand feels numb! I can’t reach my magic anymore!’_

_‘Precisely,’_ Tissaia had said, ushering her back to her place and covering the metal flakes with a cloth. _‘This is dimeritium. Remember the name well, for if you don’t, it might be the death of you.’_

“I don’t remember which ones they were exactly, Yen,” Coral said, disrupting the memory. “Have you _actually_ paid attention to the substantial size of the library in Aretuza? Or, _libraries_ , to be more specific. There are thousands of books here, and hundreds of ancient scrolls. Must be something in there we can use to save her.”

“To save her?” Yennefer echoed. “Coral, are you saying that she-”  
  
“You should talk to Merigold about this, she knows more about the effects of dimeritium than me.” The older mage closed her eyes, and Yennefer was suddenly struck by the realisation that her condition was perhaps only marginally better than Tissaia’s. She decided to heed Coral’s advice and slowly got up from the chair, thanking the red haired woman for their conversation. 

She leaned down to pick up the filthy, blood-soaked pair of boots which were now bent over at the ankle and had hardened into a new shape. No longer would they stand tall as they once had. She knew she needed to help Triss care for the wounded, and removing this ruined set of footwear from Coral’s room seemed to be a good place to start.

The moment she heard the door click shut, she reached up and rubbed her face with her free hand. She tossed the contaminated boots into a bin marked for incineration as it just so happened to roll by, being pushed by a tired looking apprentice whose name she couldn’t quite recall.

Grace? Gracella?

No, it was Glacella. A careless phrase echoed in her mind and she turned and continued in the direction of Tissaia’s room. _‘Just because you fucked up doesn't mean we will’._

Yennefer headed back down the corridor, listening to the echo of her footsteps as they bounced off the walls. As she passed by the torches which kept the dark hallways lit, she felt the fire watching her. She felt leary of it as the battle of Sodden Hill had taught her so much more about it’s nature. It only ever wanted to spread and consume everything around it in the process. 

Thankfully Tissaia had taught her how to control her chaos and so she was able to ward off it’s request to allow its heated presence into her body so that it might exit the confines of it’s wick and spread to the outside world through her being. A fire in Aretuza would be disastrous and never before had she felt so thankful for Tissaia’s lessons of restraint, for the fire was trying to be so convincing.

She pushed open the door to the quarters in which Tissaia currently resided. She took note of Triss’s actions as the healer glanced over her shoulder then quickly covered Tissaia’s abdomen with the light coverings of her bed, throwing them over the woman’s body. 

“Yennefer, you startled me,” Triss said as she cleared her throat and squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. Locks of wild hair fell over her eyes as she sat there, looking guilty as sin. A light blush dusted her cheeks and she was evidently trying her best to put on an angry look. 

“What are you hiding from me? About Tissaia’s injuries..." Yen said as she shut the door quietly, so as not to disturb the recovering woman. Then she glared at Triss, brow furrowed in anger. 

“I’m not hiding… anything… ” Triss tried to lie, but Yennefer could see right through it.

She stepped close to the side of the bed next to where Triss sat and pointed to the covers which were shielding whatever it was the healer was so concerned with. “You _are_ hiding something, otherwise you would have continued what you were doing instead of covering her up. What is wrong with her? What is wrong with the wound on her stomach?”

“Yen, you don’t want to know.” Triss responded quietly. Yennefer could no longer help herself and she resorted to pushing the healer aside and pulling back the blanket herself. What she found once she did was enough to make anyone's blood run cold. 

While Tissaia’s wound had been carefully cauterized, as was evident by the reddish edges of the wound, which had ceased its bleeding. The bandage which Triss had almost fully placed was hardly enough to cover the true threat. Yennefer could clearly see black streaks as they radiated from the knife wound and dispersed throughout her body. They spread from the injury like the roots of a tree, crawling beneath her skin as the dimeritium spread further into her blood. Tissaia continued to rest quietly, even as Triss and Yennefer fussed with her, seemingly oblivious to the danger which she was in.

Triss was right, her hands were filthy and she shouldn’t risk giving Tissaia an infection, so she took a step back then clenched her teeth and asked what it was she came back here to find out. 

“Tell me about dimeritium poisoning,” she demanded. 

Triss cringed slightly as she fastened the bandage in place. It was clear that Yennefer had touched upon a subject which she did not want to discuss. Once she was done, she covered Tissaia back up. “You… you know what dimeritium _is,_ Yen.”

“A metal that blocks a mage’s abilities, yes. But I don’t know much else about it. Tissaia never furthered the lesson. All she said was to stay away from it at all costs. _That_ was her warning.”

Triss gave a humourless chuckle as she slumped in the chair next to the bed, where Yennefer had sat less than an hour ago. “Well, she was right.” She quickly rubbed the corners of her eyes before closing them and continuing with a pained face. “I… I only saw it when I got her out of her dress, but I should have known. I thought she had just passed out from blood loss and pain… I thought perhaps the blood on her face was from some kind of spell that had struck her. Until I saw those veins on her skin. Had I not given her the healing potion before we took the portal, I don't know what the outcome would have been. It was just enough to keep her alive long enough to stitch the wound shut.”  
  
As she ran her hands through her hair and eventually rested her elbows on her knees, burying her face into her palms and talking slightly muffled from behind them, Triss elaborated. “Dimeritium causes your blood to become thinner, allowing the metal to spread faster. Since it’s so brittle, it has the tendency to flake and break into tiny pieces that go everywhere in the body once it’s in your bloodstream.” She looked forlornly at Tissaia and gestured vaguely to the ailing sorceress’ face. “Due to the side effects of the poisoning, Tissaia has been coughing up a substantial amount of blood. The fine vessels in her nose, throat and lungs rupture anytime she exerts any kind of force.”

“That’s why she had been bleeding so much,” Yennefer morosely said, sighing and sitting down at the foot of the bed, ignoring Triss’ quick glare. Her dress was undoubtedly still filthy.

Triss sniffled where she sat, patting her eyes dry with the singed sleeves of her dress. Yennefer felt her own throat clench with tears, but she swallowed them down, determined to be the strongest mage in the room, and to be completely in control of her emotions. Yet that was incredibly hard, with the sight before her. 

“You recall the demonstrations, don’t you? A short period of exposure to it does little harm, you could pull your hand away and feel the door to your magic open back up, could you not?” As Yennefer nodded, Triss sighed deeply before continuing. “Shackles made from it can weaken a mage enough to the point of passing out, but even that doesn’t have to be severe. It’s the most dangerous when it poisons the body via the blood, as happened with Tissaia. Then it completely upsets a mage’s system. Fever follows, headaches, pain throughout the body, weakness so severe that the afflicted can die because their body simply gives up the fight. The list goes on, Yennefer.” 

“Is there a cure?” Yennefer spat, angrier than she had meant. She had bitten the inside of her lip in her attempts to stifle both her tears and the fury she felt welling up deep within her. 

Triss shrugged. “There are… spells… rare, difficult to perform. Dialysis, it’s called, to filter the metal out of the blood. I would have no idea how to even begin the incantation. Since… since I’ve never faced something like this before.” 

The sheer lack of hope in her voice finally caused Yennefer’s tears to pool in her eyes. 

She could feel a dark weight settle within her. Dimeritium was a mage’s only true weakness. It was so rare that aside from Tissaia’s demonstrations, she had never encountered it once in her long life, yet Nilfgaard had gotten their hands on it. How her former classmate and friend had acquired it was beyond imagination. Although she had never been especially close to Fringilla during their studies, the other mage had never been unkind to her. She had even looked upon her as if she _were not_ a horribly deformed monster, something which Yennefer had come to appreciate during those times. Clearly the affinity for illusion magic had been powerful within Fringilla since the beginning, for she had always thought her to be genuine. But perhaps, at the time, she was...Yennefer pondered.

Had her own actions caused this? Fringilla had been originally assigned to Aedirn, something which was promised to her. It was _she_ who was supposed to be sent to Nilfgaard, but being denied something she had been assured after a lifetime of disappointment had left her feeling resentful of everything and everyone in Aretuza. So she sought out the Enchanter and brought him all of her demands, and she paid the price for it in pain. She recalled the sounds of her own screaming and the feeling of the popping of her joints as they shifted into the shape of a spine which was normal and a jaw which could function properly. Those sounds haunted her regularly. 

The moment she stepped onto the most elegant ballroom she had ever seen, with glowing constellations and star charts covering every bit of the black marble floor as those who danced seemed to part just enough to allow her a path the the King, she knew what it was she was there to do and all of the pain had been worth it. She was there to take what had been stolen from her away from Fringilla, who was nothing more than a pawn, just as she, in an elaborate game of political chess. At the time she had felt no guilt, even as the mage looked upon her as she stole the spotlight from the floor and the King offered her his hand for that first dance. Even as Tissaia looked upon her with disgust.

_‘On your lead, your excellence,’ s_ he recalled saying to the King as Fringilla stood next to Tissaia, looking around in shock as they danced in the center of the ballroom. _She_ had been the one to cast Fringilla to Nilfgaard, and now Tissaia was dying because of it.

_Tissaia was dying._

The archmage of Aretuza laid bloodless in the bed before her, barely breathing. Yennefer fought the urge to lay a hand on her mentor’s leg. She had never seen her in such a state and her heart ached at the realization. Her eyes teared up as she averted her gaze to the corner of the very high ceilings of the medical ward. She could just make out a spider web in the corner of the room, it appeared to be unoccupied by it’s eight legged resident as broken strands of webbing danced under the command of a cold draft which was always present, no matter which of the 76 rooms you inhabited at the time.

Triss interrupted her thoughts and brought her back down to reality. “Injuries made by the metal can’t be healed by magical means, Yen. Even if she survives this, which is, well...” Triss swallowed the rest of that sentence, to Yennefer’s relief. “She will bear the scars forever.”

Just as Triss finished her statement, she pulled the blankets back and gently lifted Tissaia’s robe to reveal the puncture wound on her leg. A broken arrow laid on the table next to the bed, it was covered in dry blood and her eyes flitted from the carved obsidian point, to one exhausted Triss.

Yennefer made her way to a small table against the wall. On that table was a bowl with magically enhanced water which was warm to the touch and enchanted with antiseptic properties. Next to the bowl was a sponge which she picked up and dunked into water, scrubbing her hands and forearms clean.

“You look like shit,” she said to Triss as she moved another chair closer to Tissaia with another clean sponge in her hand. “Let me care for her tonight, you get some rest.”

“But her…” Triss began to object before Yen cut her off.  
  
“Yes, _I know_ her leg is injured, I caught her in my own arms before she fell to the ground. I am sure I can care for this puncture wound while you get some sleep.”

Triss sat quietly in her chair for a moment. She glanced down at her own hands and wrung them out nervously, seemingly unwilling to let go of the duty which seemed more important than anything else at the moment. Caring for Tissaia de Vries, Rectoress of Aretuza.

Yet the healer could feel the tiredness pulling at her. She had lost track of how long it had been since she had slept. Her rounds included caring for Tissaia, then Coral, then checking on Sabrina as well as a few others who had managed to survive Sodden Hill. Sometimes, late in the night, Triss found herself wondering if they would have all been better off falling in battle to Nilfgaard. At least then they all could have gotten some rest.

Those were not thoughts she should have, she realized, and she stood slowly. “Just be sure to clean around the wound gently, the arrow pierced her femur, you don’t want to cause her any pain.”

“I will be gentle,” Yennefer replied as she moved over to sit in the chair Triss had been in, the one closest to Tissaia. “You get some rest, I will do this and then I will hold vigil.”

Triss turned to leave but stopped just as she reached for the door. “You are tired too Yen, I don’t-”

Yennefer interrupted her before she could finish her sentence, “I’ve been sleeping for the past two days, flopping from that ungodly lumpy bed over there, to this chair,” she said as she pointed to the mattress she hardly recalled sleeping upon. “I think I can handle one night with her.”

“Alright then,” Triss said with a tired smile. “There’s a bowl with water and some clean rags on the nightstand. Use those if she starts to cough up blood again. And if she wakes up, try to get her to eat something. Just… send a telepathic message to the kitchens for some soup. There’s always people at work in there, at any time of the day.”  
  
“Yes, I know. Went there for sweets often enough.” Even though Yennefer tried to return the smile, she found herself unable to do so, despite the fond memory. As Triss closed the door behind her, she sighed while listening to her footsteps, shuffling down the hell. Then her eyes flitted back to the bed, where Tissaia laid. 

Her leg was half uncovered, up until where Yennefer could see the puncture wound on her thigh. After kneeling down carefully, she moved her hand up to fold the blanket back a little more, so she could carefully clean the entire wound. It suddenly struck her how little she had actually seen of Tissaia, throughout her entire life. The woman was always wearing narrow dresses with high collars that covered everything from her neck to her feet. There were no traces of the risqué clothing that some mages preferred. Yennefer needed to expose more of the area surrounding the wound to be able to clean it completely so she cautiously moved the cloth back so as to preserve her modesty.

Now she could see the entire arrow wound. It was rough on the edges, with a neater cut on one side, where Triss had made an incision to remove the point. Bitterly, Yennefer cast a glance to where it laid on the bedside table. She remembered the moment that Tissaia had cried out, before sinking to her knees in Yennefer’s arms so vividly. With a deep breath, she calmed her rage, squandering it until her hands were no longer shaking. Then she dipped the sponge into the water that Triss had indicated. It smelled of herbs, used for soothing pain and preventing infection. 

Very carefully, Yennefer cleaned away some blood that had trickled from between the stitches in the wound. To hold the sponge as stable as was possible, she rested her free hand on Tissaia’s knee. The warmth of the rectoress’ skin gave the life underneath away. When Yennefer had dipped the sponge into the water anew, and continued cleaning the wound, Tissaia suddenly tensed. Her injured leg jerked under Yennefer’s hands and a rough breath escaped her throat. Instantly, the younger mage’s purple eyes widened. She stood up from her kneeling position, racing to the other end of the bed. 

“Tissaia!” she called out, hope filling her voice. “Tissaia, you’re awake!” 

The slight smile that had curled her lips quickly faded when she realised that Tissaia’s eyes were still closed. Her skin was still pale and she still laid unmoving. 

While Yennefer had expected to feel rage, the same fiery anger that she had felt during the battle, she only felt hollow inside, as Triss’ words echoed in her head. _‘A weakness so severe that the afflicted can die because their body simply gives up the fight.’_

“No,” she whispered softly, while kneeling down again and slowly finishing her task of cleaning the wound. “You musn’t give up, Tissaia. You never gave up… on me… No matter how horrible I was at magic when I first arrived here. You never gave up until I had mastered the things you knew were essential for me. No matter how I behaved.” Her voice got louder and more desperate as she talked to herself. Perhaps she was just trying to convince herself of the fact that everything would be alright. That Tissaia would live, despite the things Triss had said about dimeritium poisoning. They _would_ find a cure, and soon, Tissaia would be walking around the halls of Aretuza again, with the elegance and pride she was known for. 

Once she had cleaned the puncture wound, Yennefer carefully covered Tissaia’s leg with the blankets again. She rested a hand on the woman’s brow, feeling that she was indeed feverish, as Triss had already predicted. And so, Yennefer wetted one of the rags that the healer had pointed out, gently patting it along Tissaia’s forehead, hoping the coolness of the water would do her well. Then suddenly, the rectoress softly groaned, her brow twitching under Yennefer’s hands. Her breathing halted for a moment, before she heaved in a raspy cough, as blood flecked her lips. 

Panic gripped Yennefer as she quickly shifted the rag over Tissaia’s face, holding it to her cheek and wiping the blood from her mouth. The older mage was still unconscious, though her eyelids twitched irregularly. Her breathing came in shorts gasps for a few moments, until she calmed down once again, not reacting when Yennefer carefully cleaned her chin and the corners of her mouth. 

She considered telepathically reaching out to Triss, but the healer was likely asleep and she needed her rest. Yennefer knew that her own healing spells wouldn’t do much good, since the dimeritium would prevent any of them from having the desired effect. But if Tissaia’s condition worsened, she _would_ get Triss, she promised herself. Until that was the case, she seated herself in the chair next to the bed, lighting a candle that stood on a copper dish on the bedside table with a snap of her fingers. It was such an automatic movement that she barely thought about it as she pulled a bit of energy from the air around her, and channeled it to spark the flame to life. 

An hour passed without anything eventful. For the time being, Tissaia rested quietly, no longer plagued by hacking up blood or wincing in pain. Her breathing was shaky, and Yennefer wondered whether that had been the case when Triss had treated her wound. Had she not paid enough attention to it, or had the rectoress’ health declined so much in a mere few hours? Yennefer swallowed bitterly, thinking back to Fringilla’s attitude on the meeting of the Chapter. Memories from the Battle of Sodden Hill flashed through her mind. Fringilla calling out to her as she stumbled from the ruined castle to find Tissaia, Coral’s seemingly lifeless form, the portal opening and arrows raining down upon the defenders. She only noticed that she had clenched her left hand into a tight fist when her nails bit into her palm. 

Looking at Tissaia’s frail form, she felt her fury rise again. As she cast a sparing glance to the flickering candle, it was almost as if she could feel its energy, as she had with the blaze during the battle. Yet that might just be her frustration. 

The urge to protect Tissaia from further harm came over her quite suddenly. Unannounced. While Yennefer knew that sitting by a gravely wounded person’s bedside had a certain effect on the mind, she was still surprised by the ways her thoughts went. She had never felt such a sense of wanting to shield someone from danger. Not even when she traveled with Geralt and his dumb bard. Not even when she had tried to protect Queen Kalis’ child. 

No, Yennefer didn’t think herself a very protective person. 

Yet now she had to fight the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as she looked at the fallen rectoress. It was Tissaia who had protected _her_ , in her younger years. Tissaia, who had tried to do the same when Yennefer had already left Aretuza. By the Gods, what a fool she had been, in Rinde. She had thought that being cold and uncaring was the way, telling herself that Tissaia was like that too. And how wrong she had been. 

Thinking back while intently looking at the bed to see if her mentor’s breathing had slowed any further, she scoured her mind for just when she had finally been able to see through Tissaia’s carefully constructed outer layer of restraint and strictness. Not after the Chapter meeting, that she knew for certain. Not at the boat ride over the Yaruga river and not even while walking to the castle ruins. She had been preoccupied with trying to weasel an answer out of Vilgefortz. 

No, it had been on the eve before the battle. When Tissaia had offered her a mug of ale with a smile that Yennefer had never seen on her face. A full, wide smile that didn’t even vaguely resemble the usual slight quirk of her mouth. She had forgotten all about her conversation with Triss about Geralt. She had forgotten all about her disappointment and had joined Tissaia for a moment of reprieve. To live, before the day that would be filled with death. And the morning after that, when she had briefly seen the fear in Tissaia’s eyes as she hid behind the walls of the ruin, looking out into the field to seek for an opening that she could use to help Triss with her attack… Perhaps that had been the time that Yennefer had fully seen just how deep Tissaia’s emotions could go. 

Or had that moment only arrived later? When Tissaia was struck down, lying in Yennefer’s arms as she gave the last bit of advice she could muster. 

Her thoughts continued to wander, as they tended to do when one has no distraction but their own mind. No matter how much Yennefer tried, she could not make sense out of them. Feelings became hard to separate from each other as the hour slowly became two, then three. Only a few hours until dawn. 

Then Tissaia suddenly stirred. 

First, she only groaned, alarming Yennefer in an instant. Then she spoke. 

“Why?” she whispered. 

“Why what, Tissaia?” Yennefer asked gently, as she kneeled next to the bed. “You can tell me, I’m right here.” She wanted to add _for you_ , but the words died on her tongue when Tissaia talked again. 

Her voice was mumbled, the words slurred together, but it was the way her voice broke in the middle of her sentence that made Yennefer’s heart clench. “Why did you betray me?” Tissaia said. 

“I - I didn’t…” Yennefer stuttered. Had she betrayed Tissaia? Her heartbeat began to race in her chest as she laid a hand on Tissaia’s shoulder, though it was covered with the blanket. She felt the woman’s forehead again with her other hand, sensing the fever still. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I could have-” 

“Why did you leave us, Fringilla?” Tissaia cringed under Yennefer’s touch, sharply jerking her head on the pillow as if she was attacked and injured all over again. Her words turned into pained breaths as Yennefer slowly began to understand. Tissaia’s dreams were plagued by what had happened to her. Though she still didn’t know for certain, the fact that Tissaia spoke of Fringilla made Yennefer’s rage alight anew. 

“I will end her, Tissaia,” she said in a low whisper. “I will end her for what she has done to you.” 

“Then you will need to get in line,” a voice sounded from the doorstep. 

In less than a second, Yennefer was on her feet, already collecting energy in her left hand for a blast. Yet she was only met with an extremely tired-looking Sabrina, who held a tray in her hands. Her hair was brushed, and more or less secured in a braid. Once Yennefer had let the collected magic dissipate, she walked further into the room, placing the tray on the table by the wall, next to the deep bowl in which Yennefer had washed her hands and forearms. On it was a steaming mug of coffee, several fresh pieces of fruit and a selection of bread with smoked ham and cheese. 

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer mumbled as she followed Sabrina with her eyes. The blonde opened the curtains a little, letting the first rays of dawn shine into the room. “It’s been a rough night.”  
  
Sabrina nodded. “I know. Triss already said that you were holding vigil, before she fell asleep. I didn’t sleep much myself. That… _feeling_ , in my ears, it lingers.” She plucked on her earlobe and made a vague gesture that was supposed to resemble the tail of a worm. “I sometimes still hear the whispers in my head… So please, don’t fire a blast at me, don’t give me any more of a headache than I already have. According to Triss, it will take days before my concussion is completely gone. Regardless, I thought I’d bring you something to eat. You mustn’t starve, for her.” 

“No… no, you’re right.” As Yennefer and Sabrina looked at Tissaia together, and saw how the rectoress was resting quietly again, her fever dreams having passed, the raven haired mage felt herself deflate. She cupped the mug with both hands and drank the pleasantly warm coffee. “It’s just… I’m not used to seeing her like this. I’m not used to being the - the one who…” 

“The one who heals without demanding a hefty bag of coin, or some exotic trinket?” Sabrina filled in where words failed Yennefer. “Indeed, you’ve never been.” 

Yennefer wondered whether Sabrina had copied parts of Tissaia’s blunt honesty, during their years in Aretuza. But there was a silent fury stirring in the blonde sorceress’ eyes that was all her own, and nothing Yennefer had quite seen in her before. “About Fringilla,” she said, the name alone making her voice tremble slightly. “You can end her all you want, for what she has done to Tissaia, but you must permit me to strangle her first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some funny things that happened while writing this chapter: 
> 
> \- reading wiki pages and trying to piece together headcanons and lore  
> \- braz crying over video chat when Greypaws was reading the vigil scene, because it’s based on my (braz) own experience on vigil  
> \- Finding words to avoid writing about underwear  
> \- “That’s a lot of bowls in one paragraph…”  
> \- Greypaws can't pronounce Tissaia's last name in the Dutch way


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Yennefer, Triss and Sabrina search for a cure for Tissaia's dimeritium poisoning, Coral gets a heavy burden placed upon her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2 HAS SOUNDTRACK NOW!! 
> 
> Tissaia is awake! More or less! Finally! Also, Triss and Sabrina are gf’s! I mean… look at how cute they were when they were walking to sodden hill together. And when they were standing next to each other on the Chapter meeting. Do we really need a lot of reasons to write more lesbians into this fic?

_(Soundtrack composed by brazenedMinstrel! In the soundcloud description there are timestamps, to sync it up with the fic)_

* * *

Yennefer had wolfed down her breakfast very quickly. During her vigil, she hadn’t noticed how hungry she had actually become. Yet now, without any distraction, as Tissaia slept quietly and Sabrina had left the medical ward again, she could no longer ignore her hunger. Just as she had finished every last bite of the food that Sabrina had brought her, Triss walked in. 

She looked noticeably less tired, her hair no longer the bird’s nest it had been the night prior. Briefly, she paused and looked at Yennefer with a slight frown. “You look… haunted,” she said. “Was everything alright, on your vigil? You sat here for five hours.” 

It took Yennefer aback. _Five hours,_ she thought, drinking her final bit of coffee. Triss was evidently doing her healers’ duty, expecting a report. While she offered Yennefer an encouraging smile, she started removing the bowls with water and rags from the nightstand. Yennefer heard her gasp when seeing the crumpled rag with blood, that Yennefer had haphazardly stuffed between the others on the nightstand after wiping the blood off Tissaia’s face. That was likely not according to medical protocol.

“Well, apart from _that_ , the sudden blood coughing all over the place, she began talking in her sleep in the early morning.” Yennefer followed Triss with her eyes as the healer dumped the water into the sink and stuffed the rags in a burlap sack, meant to be burned later. “Very vague things about Fringilla… but nothing concrete. Scared the shit out of me, though.” 

“I can imagine that this has taken a heavy toll on you. You should rest now, Yennefer. You still haven’t slept much since the battle and you could use a change of clothing.” Triss’ gentle voice was persuasive. Very persuasive. But Yennefer still shook her head. She was determined to stay awake until she could speak with Tissaia. 

“I’m not leaving her until she wakes up.” Yennefer heard her voice crack slightly as she said it. Was she exhausted? Yes. Was Triss correct in suggesting she should get some rest? Also yes. Was she going to leave this room? No, she wasn’t.

Triss drew up her eyebrows in a gentle, almost pleading way. It was such a relief to see her like this once again. Her voice was still a bit raspy and she seemed to favour it as she spoke, but it sounded much more improved from just the night before. Her throat was covered by a healing salve and wrapped with bandages. “You know she wouldn’t want you skulking about next to her, she would want you to take care of yourself Yen. We all want that.”

With a smirk and a throaty chuckle, Yennefer responded. “I think we both know that I don’t always listen to Tissaia.”

The healer smiled as she tossed the bloodied rags into a nearby bin. “No, you don’t. You seem to listen only when it matters the most.”

Triss was not wrong, Yennefer thought to herself as she recalled the strength it took to hold back her chaos at Sodden Hill. Right up until the point where Tissaia told her to gather all of her past pain and suffering and forget the bottle, for it was time to let her chaos explode.

And **_explode_ **it had. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sounds of the flames coupled with the screams of thousands of enemy soldiers as they begged her to stop. If she were to have granted them their wish, there was a strong possibility that none of them would have been here this day. Certainly not Tissaia. Not Coral and not Triss or Sabrina.

At the time, it had felt like music to her ears, but she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she had created an innumerable amount of widows and orphans in that fire. She thought back to her own dysfunctional past and felt a tear slip down her cheek, wiping it away quickly before Triss noticed.

“Can she be saved?” Yennefer pushed aside all of her own issues as she watched the steady rise and fall of Tissaia’s chest, hoping to see her eyes open once again.

“We have to find more information with regards to the procedure, the one which pulls the dimeritium from the… affected patient’s bloodstream. There have been so few documented cases of it. And even fewer records of the afflicted actually surviving the entire ordeal… and there are so many textbooks that I don’t even know where to start.” Triss said as she cast a saddened glance at the floor before she pressed her thumb against Tissaia's wrist, searching for her radial pulse and nodding her head ever so slightly with each beat.

“I’ll scour every inch of this academy until I find it, but I’m going to wait just a bit longer to see if she wakes.” Yennefer stated as she shifted her gaze from Tissaia to Triss.

“That’s very heroic of you, but Tissaia wouldn’t-” The kind healer found her words cut short by Yen as she completely intruded.

“Tissaia doesn’t exactly have a **_choice_ **in the matter, does she? Now, Merigold, piss off and go take care of Sabrina, she needs you more than anything right now.”

Triss opened her mouth but nary a word spilled past her lips, for she knew Yennefer was not only correct, but she trusted that the rebellious mage had her patient’s best interest at heart. She felt comfortable with her own reply as she reached for the iron handle of the door, running her thumb along it’s cold, pitted surface as she whispered back. “No, she doesn’t.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder as she pushed open the door, her eyes fixed upon the empty tray strewn with the remains of whatever it was that Sabrina had apparently brought her, an empty coffee cup placed in the center of it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that,” Yennefer said as she reminded herself once again that this _was_ a medical ward and she should do her best to keep the area clean.

Triss leaned down to tap a bin lined with a burlap sack next to the door. “Bloody rags go here, and if Tissaia wakes up, please let me know,” she said as she smiled at Yennefer and turned to exit the room. Stopping only when she heard the other woman call her name with a certain amount of concern she wasn’t necessarily known for.

“Triss? How is your…” Violet eyes met with her brown eyes and she watched the sorceress touch her own throat, seemingly unable to say the word ‘burn’. She couldn’t blame her for being so delicate, as everyone who had survived Sodden Hill had endured some kind of traumatic experience. Not all of them were ready to face those experiences or talk about them just yet. In fact, Coral seemed to be the only one to fully accept what she had lost. She had even learned a new spell which she could use to tie her wild, fiery red hair up into her preferred style.

“It is healing slowly, Sabrina has been using her magic to mitigate the damage and this herb-based salve is helping quite a bit. Thank you for asking.” She was touched by the gesture. Sabrina had been fussing over her, as any concerned spouse would, but she couldn’t actually recall anyone else asking her how **_she_ **was until just now. It felt nice.

“Good, I’m glad you are recovering, you are lucky to have Sabrina. Also, I never had the chance to thank you for holding the entrance to the keep _or_ for halting that Nilfgaardian advance by filling the outer edge of the forest with noxious mushrooms. I know that it was probably… hard… to… ” Yennefer lowered her voice as she floundered, uncertain if she should even continue. Everyone knew Triss was an empath.

Triss understood what she was trying to do and the sensitivity she was displaying was endearing, so she finished her sentence for her. “Yes, it was a difficult thing to do, even though it was what we needed to do to survive. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you either, what you did.”

Yennefer felt the truth behind that statement as well. “No, it wasn’t.” She left it at that.

For a few moments there was nothing but complete silence, and some sort of acceptance which filled the air. They were here in Aretuza _and_ they were alive. They both silently appreciated that sentiment as Triss smiled knowingly at her first, and then to Tissaia’s resting form before the weary healer finally turned to leave.

Once Triss shut the door, the silence was almost deafening. Yennefer felt the weight of everything they had all been through creep up upon her until she focused on Tissaia’s shallow breathing. It hitched ever so slightly which was enough to make Yennefer jump, the tension of everything she and Triss had discussed was still lurking in her body.

She knelt down next to Tissaia, any and all other tasks long since forgotten. She had to fight the urge to lay a hand on her covered shoulder, on her forehead or on her cheek. Triss was so good at that, being the resident medic, but it felt so strange and so foreign to Yennefer. Yet she found herself wanting to do it, just the same.

Tissaia’s breathing hitched again and her exhale became a soft gasp. Then her eyes opened, they were bloodshot and jaundiced. The stark blue coloration of her irises contrasted sharply against the reddish veins in the whites of her eyes, but the yellowed edges were her primary concern.

The wounded matriarch blinked slowly and thoughtfully, her pupils were so wide that her eyes almost looked black. Her lips twitched and she searched Yennefer’s face cautiously, clearly trying to gain some sort of focus.

“Tissaia! There you are. You were… worrying us.” She whispered to her gently, choosing her words carefully, because she didn’t quite want to convey just _how_ fearful she had been for the past hours. Her heart had never felt so elated that she almost wanted to cry. 

The Rectoress drew in another breath, her chest rising steadily and then falling. _“Hmm…”_

Yennefer held her own breath and leaned closer as she awaited Tissaia’s first words.

**_“Bathe.”_ ** Even in her weakened state, she said it so sharply.

So sharply that Yennefer had trouble comprehending if Tissaia had said what it was she thought she had heard. With a look of confusion, she reached for her face, only to find the woman flinching and looking away.

With a weak and shaky voice, Tissaia elaborated. “You smell of death and smoke. Go bathe.”

Had Tissaia just awakened to tell her she smelled? Yennefer sat back a bit, studying her face. The older woman’s eyes narrowed at her ever so slightly and she knew instantly that was something Tissaia would do. She looked down at herself, dirt and dried blood was ground deep into the fibers of her dress. The scent of burned earth and flesh permeated the fabric.

She thought back to Triss’ comment earlier and realized that she was actually quite disgusting at this moment. If even Triss had eluded to it, then it must be the truth. Wordlessly she stood, pausing for just a moment, the need to defy Tissaia and just stay next to her was almost overwhelming.

But she shouldn’t do that because she was gross, Yennefer was starting to understand.

Stepping back, she picked up her tray with the empty coffee cup and made her way to the door, sending a telepathic message to Triss as she did so.

_‘Your patient is now awake and just as “Tissaia” as ever.’_

She heard Triss chuckle as the healer’s voice sounded within her head. _‘That is good to hear. I will be with her shortly.’_

As Yennefer felt the telepathic connection dissipate, she glanced at Tissaia once again. The rectoress’ eyebrows were drawn up in a slight frown, and it took a bit of time before Yennefer realized that she couldn’t listen in to their telepathy, thanks to the dimeritium’s effects. It felt odd not to simply allow her into her mind for a moment. “Triss is checking on Sabrina now, she’ll be here soon. I’ll… take to your kind advice and take a warm bath.” 

Tissaia seemed too tired to talk for a moment. Then she swallowed, pulling a sour face as she undoubtedly still tasted blood on the back of her tongue. “Good,” she said. Yennefer could have sworn that she rolled her eyes, though that could simply be just because the rectoress was about to drift off again. 

After giving the tray to a passing apprentice and telling her to deliver it to the kitchens, completely ignoring the dirty look she got, Yennefer started her trip to the washrooms. Walking through corridors that her feet still knew but her mind didn’t, Yennefer let her memories take her to one of the areas in Aretuza where the student dormitories were located, and thus most of the bathrooms as well. She had always disliked them, the rows of boring greyish tiles, the stalls with their dark wooden doors and their magically levitated showerheads. Some of them had a few somewhat larger stalls with a wooden tub, but those were usually only accessible for the students on the days they had no lessons. And even then, they were very wanted and usually full by the time that Yennefer had hobbled to the washrooms. 

Not today though, since it was so early in the morning that there were no lessons yet, and the students had likely already been informed of the fact that their rectoress was unable to teach them. If they knew the true reason of her absence or the full story of what had happened, Yennefer couldn’t know. She hoped that Triss was wise enough not to scare them with what had befallen Tissaia. 

The tub filled too slowly and the water was colder than she would have liked. Perhaps she had imagined it warmer in her memories of the past, than it had been in truth. Eventually she stopped glaring at the rising water level and attempted to figure out where the spells pulled it from, so she could mess with them. She began stripping herself of her clothing, wrestling with parts of her dress that were so filthy that they had hardened with dried blood and dirt. Both Triss and Tissaia had been right, this was no state for her to appear in. Once she was nude, apart from her bandage, she looked at the sad heap of fabric that had once been her dress.

It suddenly struck her that she didn’t bring another one with her in the washrooms, until she realized that the dress she had worn on the day she had returned to Aretuza was likely still in the room she had occupied before leaving for Sodden. If it was still here, she could almost effortlessly retrieve it. She focused her thoughts on the dress, asking her magic if it was still here.

She was both correct _and_ overjoyed at the fact that it was. Soon, she had summoned the black dress with its white fractal, snowflake-like patterns, draping it over the small stool that stood next to the bathtub. She retrieved clean undergarments and her spare boots too, relieved that her magical abilities were, even in her tired state, enough to summon them to her hands. 

Her bandage was the only thing left to undo, before she could sink into the water. Yennefer hesitated for a moment before peeling the wrappings off her body. She cringed ever so slightly when an edge of her linen wrap, hardened by the natural healing process of her weeping wound, got caught up along the scabbing of her injury. After taking a few deep breaths to steel herself, she looked down at her body. It looked rather small and not at all severe, compared to the gruesome slash that she had seen on Tissaia’s body. Its edges were smooth, relatively speaking, and the healing salve that had been applied made the skin around it slightly numb to the touch. 

It wasn’t the wound that eventually made her shiver, as she started longing for the warm embrace of the water more and more. No, it was the memory of _how_ she had been wounded. The memory of Sabrina’s face, wrought into a chilling smile that her friend would never allow on her delicate features. The memory of how she had needed the full strength of both her arms to hold back Sabrina’s single one, as the point of the arrow she held had come precariously close to gouging out her eye. Yennefer had never thought of Sabrina as a particularly strong woman, but at that moment it had been clear that she was physically the strongest of them both. 

The warm water was a relief when she finally allowed herself to sink into the tub, even though it wasn’t as warm as she preferred and even though she didn’t have her collection of luxurious, sweet smelling oils and soaps. Instead, she had the greenish block of soap that brought up all sorts of lonely memories from her studying times in Aretuza. Out of old habit, she scratched a tiny Y into the corner of the block with her nail, something she had done many times before in the past. It had been a quiet act of establishing herself as a person, who left her traces, and not some creature that dwelled in pig pens. 

Slowly, as she washed herself and felt the filth of three days’ worth of time **_and_ **a battle be rinsed away, the water turned grey. She refilled it once again, not wanting to sit in such pollution, before holding her breath and sinking beneath the water fully, washing all remnants of ash and blood out of her hair. She felt reborn when she emerged. Her body was still tired, but at least the veil of soot from the battle clung to her no longer. Taking a rough towel from the rack caused, once again, many memories to bubble to the surface of her mind. She dried herself off, before dressing. She knew she would have to ask Triss for a new bandage, since the fabric of her dress was already starting to chafe just a bit against her wound. 

When she walked the numerous corridors again, her ruined clothing tucked under her arm as nothing more than a crumpled wad, she felt Triss prod at her mind. After she had let the connection be established, the healer said to her: _‘Don’t be alarmed when you reach an empty medical ward. We’ve moved Tissaia up to her own chambers, since she insisted on… recovering in her own bed.’_

_‘She didn’t say_ recovering _, Triss.’_ Sabrina said, smoothly joining the telepathic conversation. 

Yennefer already heard Triss begin to sputter, but she did not want to have an entire discussion unfold inside her own mind, so she replied: _‘Let’s wait with this until I’m up there too. And please, tell her that she shouldn’t be speaking of those things.’_

She knew very well which word Tissaia had used instead of “recovering”, but she could not give up hope until she had truly tried everything in her power to save her. 

Once she arrived on the higher levels of Aretuza, where Tissaia had her chambers, she remembered one particular instance when she had been there in the past. She had opened the door to Tissaia elegantly smoking a pipe and had angrily demanded to speak with the Chapter. The situation that unfolded now, upon opening the heavy wooden door to Tissaia’s quarters, couldn’t have been more different. 

She knew that they were technically two rooms. One was a giant study with the rectoress’ personal library, her desk, a large table that she often used for dining, and three large windows lining the wall on one side. There were candles in niches in the wall, though all of them were extinguished and the only light came from the small hearth. This room had a heavy, dark green curtain with golden embroidery that could be drawn all the way across the room, dividing it into two spaces. It was often used to separate the study from the table, thus creating a place where Tissaia could host a small dinner with a few acquaintances. 

Then there was the second chamber, which Yennefer had never visited. While she knew it was a bedroom, she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. She could hear Sabrina and Triss talking from behind the door which led from the study into the bedchamber. As she softly pushed it open, she observed the details of the room behind it. The design was much the same, with graceful arches and numerous little niches in the wall, which held everything from, once again, candles to dried bouquets of flowers. Instead of bookshelves, one wall was exclusively dedicated to a large armoire and a smaller closet, both of which were made out of a nice, darkly coloured wood. 

The opposite wall had another door in it, which was slightly opened, so Yennefer could see an adjacent bathroom through it. There was a small, rounded table, which stood on a lush carpet in front of the large hearth, flanked by three comfortable armchairs. In the middle of the room, in between the two windows, was the bed. Yennefer knew that Tissaia did not share her quarters with anyone, so it surprised her how large it was. The rectoress could easily fit into it three times over, so small did she look now. 

Sabrina stood on one side of the bed and was in the process of handing Triss a shallow wooden bowl filled with a potion of sorts when Yennefer walked in. Triss, who knelt next to the bed, dipped the tip of a cloth into it, then turned to Tissaia’s side once again. The blankets were folded back to just above Tissaia’s hips and her nightgown was neatly moved up, uncovering everything from her midriff downwards. As Yennefer scanned the elder sorceress’ form, she could already see spots of blood on the fabric of her nightgown. Blood which had definitely not been there the evening prior. She remembered what Triss had said about the blood-thinning effects of dimeritium and looked downwards to Tissaia’s wound with growing concern. 

“How is she?” Yennefer said as she pulled a chair from along the wall closer to the two in order to sit next to them. “Tell me the truth,” she added.

Triss sucked in her breath as she watched Yennefer’s violet eyes scan over every bit of Tissaia’s exposed wounds. Her abdominal injury was the worst of them. The dark veins caused by the dimeritium poisoning had spread even further. The inflamed edges where the dagger had struck her were so haunting, even after they had been medically burned shut. The entirety of the gash was still oozing. Triss delicately dabbed at it, and the fact that her blood cells could hardly clot was devastating to all of them. To top it off, it had begun to smell of sickened flesh.

Sabrina and Triss shared a look between themselves and she knew right away that Tissaia’s condition had become so extreme that they did not want to verbalize it’s severity. Sabrina gently placed her hand on her wife’s shoulder as she closed her eyes and her neck spasmed to her left for just a bit. She reached for her own earlobe, pulling at it ever so slightly and massaging it gently before speaking. “She is not doing well and she doesn’t have much time left.” The tone of her voice made clear just how much she disliked those words.

Triss looked upon her lover with great concern before she leaned in and gently began to clean Tissaia’s nasty wound, dipping the cloth in the bowl and wringing it out once again before repeating the process and adding to what Sabrina had said, “she also needs to eat, but I can’t get her to wake up long enough to feed her. I may have to resort to tube feeding, although I know she wouldn’t want that.”

Yennefer stood up, recognizing a new challenge which had presented itself to her. This was Tissaia, who had saved her life in more ways than one. She owed her so much but hid her feelings as she announced her intentions behind a smug veil. “I will get her to eat something, whether she likes it or not.”

She extended her hands outwardly and a shifting of air blew out a few candles just before a portal to the kitchen began to coalesce and the raven haired sorceress stepped through it confidently. It closed just as soon as she crossed the threshold, leaving behind a scent unique to Yennefer. The smell of lilac and gooseberries.

“I hope she’s right.” Triss whispered sadly as she began to apply an herb enhanced salve to Tissaia’s most critical wound. She covered the affected area liberally and took note of how much weight the Rectoress had already lost. 

“So do I.” Sabrina said as she continued to assist Triss by handing her a clean linen wrap as if nothing were bothering her, as if the memory of magically enhanced insects crawling about her ear canal and telling her what to do wasn’t haunting her at that moment.

Triss reached for her hand, gently taking it into her hers, knowing just what it was that plagued her. Sabrina held back a sob and found herself fighting hard to keep her neck from twitching and to keep the image of her fist clenched tightly around an arrow while trying to stab Yennefer in the eye from replaying itself in her mind.

“Would you like me to look at your ear again?” The healer offered softly, interrupting her decline.

The blonde haired woman shook her head solemnly, knowing the burden Triss carried. She did not want to be one of those burdens. She was thankful when Yennefer was quick to return.

The portal she had stepped through dissipated quickly and it made both Triss and Sabrina wonder how much she had worked the cooks into a panic once she entered the kitchen and demanded food. She held a large bowl with brothy chicken soup in her steady hands, which filled the chamber with a nice smell and seemed to drive away the nasty odour of a poisoned wound. 

Sabrina stood aside and allowed Yennefer to come closer, glancing at Triss as she did so. Moving away from Tissaia, she allowed her the space she needed in order to set the bowl of soup on the nightstand and settle down next to the rectoress.

“That was fast.” Triss said as she watched Yennefer slowly stir the broth, herbs and spices followed the path of the spoon and they disappeared and reappeared under her gentle agitation, causing the healer to realise just how hungry she herself had become.

“I’m going to try and feed her now.” The chaotic sorceress said as she looked to Triss for approval, wondering if she had lost any faith in her ability to care for Tissaia. The healer nodded carefully as she finished applying the wrap to the wound and then respectfully covered her body back up with first her nightgown, then a blanket. She stood and joined Sabrina by the door, fidgeting with her fingers nervously.

“Just let me know within the hour if you are unable to get her to eat. I’ll have to make other preparations, if you can’t.”

Yennefer fixed her gaze on Tissaia as Triss’ words floated around in her mind, well past her departure. She pushed aside a lock of her own thick, dark hair as she reached for the spoon. “Tissaia? I know you are hungry and I know you can hear me. Please don’t make this difficult.”

Blue eyes fluttered open almost defiantly. “I can feed myself,” the older woman stated as she began to shift her position cautiously, grimacing with each adjustment. Her expression remained harsh even as Yennefer moved the pillows to allow her to sit upright. She felt saddened as she watched Tissaia grasp loosely at her own waist. Clearly she was still in a great deal of pain.

Not wanting to argue with her, even though what she really _wanted_ to do was to argue with her, she held the bowl close to Tissaia with the spoon at an angle which would be easy for her to access. Watching ever so closely as the injured woman lifted a pale hand and grasped the handle of the spoon, carefully filling it with a measured amount of spice and broth.

Tissaia was well aware of how weak she was at the moment, but she wasn’t going to let it show, especially not in front of Yennefer. Her wounds were burning and throbbing, her head felt foggy and her heart was still numb with the thought of Fringilla’s utter betrayal. To top it off, she was being treated as if she were an invalid.

_‘Unacceptable’,_ she thought to herself as she lifted the spoon from the bowl and brought it to her lips. Just as her mouth began to water at the thought of consuming this simple delicacy, her fingers began to twitch. As she moved her arm closer, the twitch spread into her wrist and soon the contents of the spoon splashed everywhere and the utensil flung from her hand, landing on her lap and falling into a crevice of the blanket.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.” Yennefer’s voice rang out, though it lacked the attitude it usually carried. “I can help you, if you would stop being so ridiculous about it.”

Tissaia furrowed her brow, “I’m not incapable of doing things on my own. Just because I’m bleeding out as we speak, it doesn’t mean I’m dead yet.”

Yennefer tried to hide the hurt she felt upon hearing those words. Her violet eyes remained locked on the spoon as she filled it with soup and placed the handle in Tissaia’s hand, this time holding her hand steady for her. She looked at her with that insufferable look, raising her brow smugly as she spat out her retort. “No, you aren’t, but if you don’t eat something soon you will be. And I am not about to get _the look_ from Triss when she walks into the room to your skeleton holding an empty soup spoon.”

With a deep sigh, Tissaia nodded her head and tightened her grip on the handle of the spoon once again and began to eat. The standard kitchen soup had never tasted so good. Yennefer only intervened when her hands began to shake, wrapping her fingers around her hand and wrist to steady her movements until she was ready for another spoonful.

Her hands were soft and caring in a way that almost surprised her, as Yennefer was not known for being the most compassionate person. But here she was, ensuring she finished her meal, all the while treating her with dignity. Her skin reacted without her permission and before she could hide the goosebumps, Yennefer saw them as well. 

"Are you cold?" She asked as she set aside the now empty bowl. 

Unwilling to admit anything to the younger sorceress, she swallowed thickly and tucked her arms beneath the blanket. "Yes, I am a bit cold." 

Yennefer stood up and made her way to a chest at the foot of the bed. Waving her hand to ignite a fire in the hearth by channeling some of the flames from the burning candles in the room, she reached into the chest and pulled out a thick blanket. Tissaia buried herself deeper under the covers. It made her wince and groan mutedly when she felt a sharp pain her her stomach. 

Within a second, Yennefer was by her side, dropping the blanket and kneeling down with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong? Should I alert Triss?” 

“Triss has more than enough tasks at the moment.” Tissaia shifted under the blanket and hissed in pain, before calming her own breathing. “There is a shard of the dimeritium dagger embedded in the muscle on my stomach somewhere, likely too deep for Triss to remove without risks. I had forgotten about it… The food has made me tired.” 

As Yennefer picked up the blanket and spread it over Tissaia’s form, she sighed deeply to quell her anger, for she didn’t need to work Tissaia up any further. Still, her voice was short and sharp when she asked: “Dimeritium dagger? Was it Fringilla who attacked you with that?” 

When she saw the rectoress nod slowly, she clenched her left hand into a tight fist. Her suspicions had been right and she swore to herself once again that she would end Fringilla for it. In her mind, she could see it play out; her former classmate drawing a dagger, made from the brittle, dark bluish metal, then swinging it into Tissaia’s stomach, as she had only wanted to help her. Yennefer had a lot of thoughts about the way she had acted in Rinde, but she hadn’t harmed Tissaia physically. The sheer idea made her feel sick. It also made her wish that she had started searching for Tissaia much earlier, so she could perhaps have prevented the entire disaster. 

She was well aware of the brooding look she had on her face, and apparently, Tissaia too, since the older mage disrupted her morose thoughts with a request.

"I would like to speak with Coral now,” the rectoress said as she tried to clear her mind of the affection that had been in Yennefer’s touch, for she had other matters to attend to. Matters which didn't require softness. 

~~~

Coral sat on the edge of her bed, facing the mirror which she had asked the resident apprentice for. She wore a light tank top and loose breeches, and watched her own reflection as she lifted up her left hand and flexed all of her fingers and her thumb, then lowered it back down and lifted up her right… stump.

It burned, terribly. Not even physically so much as it did mentally.

She recalled the strength she felt when she extended her left hand and rotated it into a fist, collapsing the throats of an entire quadrant of Nilfgaardian soldiers just before she was forced to flee, for there were three times more coming and she was running out of power.

The memory of Yennefer’s voice rang throughout her head, “Coral, take the path back to us, do not stop… Altan!!” The conductor of the battle seemed to falter before continuing as the lad fell. “Coral, _save yourself!_ ” She ran faster around the corner, almost tripping over her robes before she stopped to assess her surroundings, still feeling the blood as it dripped from her nose.

She quieted her mind and extended her arms outwardly. The wind shifted and began to contract. Just as she was about to push everything violently away from her, she felt the pain of the blade as it severed her right arm from her body.

_“No!”_ She heard Yennefer's telepathic voice, for she had watched it all.

The terrible memory faded and she opened her eyes to real time vision once again. She was staring at her own face in the mirror and trying so hard to process what it was she saw in this moment.

“At least they didn’t take my dominant arm.” She uttered to herself as she stood and flexed, accepting what it was she had become.

_Stronger._

Coral was determined to persevere, this wasn’t anything which she was going to allow to hold her back. This disability could be used as a strength, she thought to herself as she tried to figure out a way she could benefit from the loss.

Her loose hair was draped over her shoulders and reminded her that there was a simple place she could start. She glanced up to the corner of the room, taking note of several spiderwebs which had not been there before. Ignoring them, she focused her energy and whispered a spell which sent her hair spiraling upwards. Her thick, crimson locks curled up and around each other until they were wound in a loose bun.

The older mage smiled to herself, knowing that nothing was going to hold her back, no matter how many arms she _did_ or _didn’t_ have at this point.

“Coral, Tissaia wants to talk to you.” Yennefer suddenly stood in the door opening, scanning over her form and looking more than a little relieved at the fact that the red-haired mage was already standing up. Unlike her old friend Tissaia, she could make full use of healing spells. “She is in her chambers. It seemed that she wanted to speak about a rather urgent matter.” 

“I’ll be there shortly,” Coral said, levitating a dark green robe with her powers and allowing it to drape over her shoulders. She saw that the younger mage still looked haggard, though her hair didn’t have dried blood and ash in it anymore. “You should probably rest. And eat. And-”  
  
“I should probably go to the library to scour every single plank for a cure. Triss and Sabrina are searching already and I need to help them.” With her eyebrows updrawn, Yennefer challenged the mage from Skellige to a discussion about her health. Then she sighed and admitted: “I’ll grab some food from the kitchens before I head up there. Happy now?” 

With a quiet laugh, Coral stepped up to her. She had an inch or two on Yennefer, and said to her: “Admitting that you’re not entirely in the right? That’s quite the step for you, Vengerberg. I might join the three of you in the library as well, later. Spent enough time there when I studied here.” 

The younger mage scowled with all the defiance she had left in her, then she rolled her eyes and departed. After watching Yennefer stride away with a bemused smile on her face, Coral put some speed into her walk up to Tissaia’s chambers. She hadn’t been there very often, at least, not in the time that Tissaia occupied them. Before that, she had been called there quite a few times by the previous rectoress, Klara Larissa de Winter, since she hadn’t exactly been a model student. Coral liked to tell herself that she’d been the middle ground between Philippa’s complete disregard for the rules of Aretuza and Tissaia’s perfect disposition, but she was likely more inclined to Philippa’s side of the spectrum as opposed to Tissaia’s. 

When she opened the doors to the rectoress’ quarters and crossed the study, she noticed that dust had already started to accumulate on the desk. Then she threw open the door to the bedchambers and was promptly hit in the face with what seemed like a wall of hot air. “ _Cuach op arse_ , why is it so ungodly warm in here?” she uttered. 

“Spare me your Skellige jargon. It makes my head hurt,” Tissaia said. Her voice was incredibly weak and frail in Coral’s ears. “Sit down, I want to speak to you about important matters.” 

As Coral pulled a chair closer to the bed, shoving it over the floor with a burst of magic, the sound of the legs scraping over the wooden floor making Tissaia cringe slightly, she laughed. “Yes, you’d get a crick in your neck if I kept standing.” 

“And remove this second blanket, the hearth is warm enough.” Tissaia sighed deeply as she scanned over her longtime friend’s form, her eyes lingering on the missing arm. She pressed her lips into a thin line and decided not to bring it too much to the attention, especially since she likely knew that Coral wished to move on from it as quickly as possible. 

As Coral flicked her fingers and watched the blanket rise into the air and do a shoddy attempt at folding itself before falling onto the lid of the chest at the end of the bed, she chuckled. “There’s a soup stain on the sheets. Did you try to eat without aid?” Her amusement only intensified when seeing that Tissaia’s now uncovered shoulders and upper arms had goosebumps all over the skin. Raising her eyebrows, she chuckled. “Vengerberg lit the fire, didn’t she?” 

“Do not,” was Tissaia’s only tired reply. 

“Do not what?” Coral fired back quickly, quirking her eyebrows. 

“You know very well what.” 

“That look on your face, Tissaia… it’s priceless. Reminds me of that time Philippa and I worked you into a panic, when we were still studying here.” 

Tissaia’s face soured at that. “You mean the time that the two of you pestered me for hours until I reluctantly revealed my attraction to solely women? The fact that Philippa shouted it from her bunk on the first night in our dormitory didn’t mean that I would do the same once I had figured myself out.” 

“And then you went running away into the hallway on your stubby little legs.” While she tried to ban the grin from her features, Coral couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. “I know we went too far, and you know just how sorry we were after we saw you flee. Still, we wanted to know what was on your mind that caused you to hide in the dorm for literally the entire day. I don’t think we ever put so much effort into anything at Aretuza as when we went to dig up that rare book on potions, to make it up to you. Didn’t you invent a new one because of the knowledge in it?” 

“De Vries’ extract, yes.” A glimmer of pride sounded in Tissaia’s voice when she spoke of the potion that had won her considerable renown. Then she licked her dry lips and shifted underneath the blanket, wincing softly. It hurt Coral to see her in such a state, but she knew that Tissaia disliked pity, thus refrained from commenting on it. “Your arm…” Tissaia continued. “The funds of Aretuza are open to you, if you wish to seek an advanced replacement. For the courage you displayed in the battle, and for the-” 

“I’ll use my own funds. No need to deplete yours any further. I heard that you let some untalented girls buy their way into the academy?” 

“I did what I had to do to ensure Aretuza’s survival.” The irritation in Tissaia’s voice made it very clear how much she disliked her own actions, though they had been out of necessity. She also disliked how much they had already swerved from the subject she wanted to discuss. “Which brings me to my point, Coral. I want you to succeed me.” 

The reply was already spilling over Coral’s lips before she could stop herself. “No. I’m not going to succeed you. Those three young ones are searching the libraries for a cure, which-”  
  
“Which they might not find in time.” Tissaia interrupted, fixing her deep blue eyes on Coral and narrowing them. Coral knew that she was right, but she did not want to go along with the fact that Tissaia was rapidly starting to lose hope for recovery. Yet the severe look in her friend’s eyes, coupled with her extremely pale face, paper thin voice and the pain that shone through every now and then… all those things told a different story. “We both know how severe the effects of dimeritium are once it’s in your blood. We both know that I don’t have more than a few days left. A week, if I’m lucky.” 

_Lucky_ was a relative term, Coral realized. It was dying quickly and being spared the pain, or dying slowly and agonizingly, as the body went through the final stages of intense fever, before hemorrhaging sealed the poisoned mage’s fate. She could barely stand the thought of Tissaia having to suffer through that all. She had opened her mouth to object, when Tissaia continued.  
  
“Aretuza needs a rectoress. The apprentices… they need guidance, especially since they haven’t had the lightning test yet.” Her voice and her eyes turned slightly panicked as she looked at Coral’s concerned frown. “Astrid, you _have_ to.” 

As if to accentuate her point, Tissaia tensed all of the sudden, her form heaving as blood forced its way into her mouth from her affected throat and lungs. Quickly, Coral held one of the long sleeves of her robe up to Tissaia’s mouth. She sighed as she saw that Tissaia chose to swallow the blood back down, instead of simply spitting it out. _At least you still have some of that stubbornness_ , she thought to herself as she wiped the blood from the corners of the rectoress’ mouth. Then she grabbed the pitcher of water that stood on the bedside table and conjured a cup. Since her hand was occupied, and she had briefly forgotten about her own injuries thanks to Tissaia’s condition, it clattered onto the floor. She swiftly levitated it and filled it with water. Then she awkwardly kneeled next to the bed and wound her arm underneath Tissaia’s back to help her with sitting up. Through the thin nightgown, she could feel every bone in her shoulders and back, the spine pressing into her own skin. 

Tissaia grasped the cup with both hands and washed the blood from her mouth, looking at Coral over the rim with a look that was half a glare, half a plea. 

At last, the Skelligen mage conceded. “I’ll do what you want, Tiss, but only until you’re recovered… since my handwriting is horrendous and I can’t keep track of a hundred students at once. I’m not you.” Her smile wasn’t truly sincere, but it was enough to mask the clench of tears she felt in her throat. 

“Seventy two, spread over four classes, and thus four years,” Tissaia corrected her, setting the cup down onto the nightstand and resting her weight fully against Coral’s arm, as the red haired woman slowly let her settle in the bed again, drawing up the blanket and nodding.  
  
“I’ll go put on a clean robe, then I’ll gather them and inform them of the situation. Anything you want to have… left out?” 

“Don’t tell them about the dimeritium. They should know that I was injured in the Battle of Sodden already, but we mustn’t needlessly frighten them. If they know that Nilfgaard has dimeritium…” 

“Then they’ll only get panicky. I understand.” As Coral made her way to the bedchamber’s exit, she turned around halfway. Tissaia looked so small, so pale and so very weakened, as she laid in her bed and watched her friend prepare to shoulder the heavy burden of the rectoress. Coral had never seen her this way, not even in all their years at Aretuza. “This isn’t going to kill you, Tissaia,” she said. “If a lightning bolt to the face couldn’t put you down-”  
  
“It struck my neck and my back, not my face. The only injuries I had on my face were from the glass shards of my bottle, which also ended up in _your_ hand, if I recall correctly.” Tissaia’s leveled stare made the corners of Coral’s mouth twitch into a slight smile. Even while in such a bad state, Tissaia still had an impeccable memory, not even forgetting the slightest details of an event from so long ago, when she had been a student herself. 

“Well, I was trying not to get blinded when that stupid bottle blew up. It took days before I’d picked them all out of my palm,” Coral retorted with a laugh. “But you recovered from that. Trust me, they will find a way to cure you.” 

During her sentence, she saw Tissaia drift off again, as her eyes closed and she sagged against her pillow a little more. Thus, she turned around, folding her bloodied sleeve twice to hide it from any passing apprentice in the corridors. Just as she laid a hand on the door handle, she heard Tissaia’s reedy voice call out to her again.  
  
“The pendant….” Her eyes were still closed, and every word seemed to come with difficulty. “Astrid, the pendant is on my desk… _wear it._ You are the rectoress now.” 

_(Art by Greypaws, of a very sad Coral)_

~~~

In the library, Yennefer found Sabrina and Triss sitting at one of the tables, tucked in a corner between the bookshelves. The entire wooden surface was strewn with books and scrolls. Triss looked up when she saw her approach, her eyes flitting from Yennefer’s face to the tray with sweet and savoury pastries in her hands. They both knew that Tissaia would kick her out of the library in an instant, since it was strictly forbidden to bring food in there. But both Triss and Sabrina were famished, so she moved aside some of the books to make room for the tray. Her lover emerged from between the towering shelves, four more books in her arms. 

“We’re searching through everything with the word dimeritium in it,” she explained as she set them down and grabbed a pastry, biting into the warm filling of pork and peas, holding her hand underneath it to avoid crumbs from falling onto the books. “Most of them are just passing mentions or accounts of people who have died because of it.” 

“Which doesn’t exactly help with our mood,” Triss added, as she tapped on the cover of another book and watched as it opened itself, then scanned over the page and read aloud: “Here, ‘ _after five days of battling, the surviving mage fell to the poison that is dimeritium too. Thus, our numbers had dwindled to_ -” 

“That’s the same mage from that military report we came across earlier,” Sabrina said, reaching for a glass carafe and pouring herself a glass of water. “Duplicates. We have seen a lot of those too. People sure do love writing about pain and suffering. Mages who permanently lost their access to magic, or those who died after days of debilitating pain, as their insides-” 

Yennefer cringed and looked at her own pastry, which was rapidly becoming unappetizing. “Sabrina, please stop.” 

“You’ll read plenty of that yourself,” the blonde answered as she unfurled a scroll and quickly began reading. Before long, she rolled it back up and murmured an incantation, causing the scroll to hover into the air and slowly began to float back to its place between the shelves. “That one just listed it as “cause of death”, very helpful.” 

Following the scroll with her eyes for a few moments, Yennefer sighed. She wasn’t sure how many hours had elapsed since she had seen Triss and Sabrina head towards the library, but the fact that their search had been fruitless so far didn’t sit right with her. She picked up a book and tapped lightly on the cover, focusing on the word dimeritium while looking on as its pages fluttered until they lay still. Then she searched the spread for where it was mentioned. It was a small section in a paragraph about the methods once used against elven mages. With a distasteful look, she quickly closed the book, then sent it back to its place with a whispered spell. 

For some time after that, she helped Triss and Sabrina with the books on their table. As they slowly worked through them, she observed how monotonous the writing about dimeritium was. It was either the cause of a mage’s death, a passing mention or the vague suspicion that it could have been involved in an attack against a sorcerer. Once, Triss gave a little yelp as she laid the book she had in her hands on the table and gestured for the other sorceresses to read along.  
  
“Here! It says that a mage recovered from dimeritium poisoning,” she said, elated. Yet her small smile quickly faded when she read further. “But it says nothing about the methods used… only that the metal was put into their wine, in powdered form.” 

“Which would be less dangerous than directly into the bloodstream, since it’s not immediately absorbed into the body,” Yennefer concluded, then leaned back in her chair and combed her hands through her hair. With a deep sigh, she stood up and walked to the alchemy section of the library. She had been there often enough in her studying times, and could recall that there were several books about metals and alloys. Behind her, she heard Triss’ light footsteps as the healer walked into the expanse of bookshelves too. 

Then, just as she had reached for a thick book about the properties of various metals used in alchemy, she hears Triss screech. Within moments, both she and Sabrina were running to the healer, who was leaning against the shelves with a hand on her chest, trying to calm her own breath and heartbeat. 

“Are you alright?” Sabrina asked, bringing a hand to her lover’s shoulder.  
  
Yennefer looked at the two with bewilderment. “What was that yelling about?”

With a somewhat panicked look, Triss pointed at the half unfolded piece of paper that was lying on the ground in front of her. “That… that _thing_ was in between the books on the shelf!” 

Yennefer picked it up, to see what had upset her friend so. The parchment was slightly brittle under her fingers, indicating its age. As she unfolded it fully, she mentally cursed at a Coral in her student times. On the parchment was a painting of two figures who she could only describe as _contorted_. The one on the right, who she assumed to be a woman, had breasts that seemed to be too large for her body. Her back was bent in an angle that made Yennefer’s own back hurt by the sight of it. The proportions of the man’s nethers, on the left of the painting, were similarly exaggerated. Yennefer could not stop her mouth from twisting into a smile as she folded the painting again, tucking it into her dress and vowing to give it back to Coral later. 

“That’s quite an exotic position,” she said casually to the other two sorceresses. Triss had a bright red blush on her face and Sabrina looked very concerned. 

“Who would even hide that in a library?” she softly asked, still patting Triss on the shoulder. 

“I… have no idea.” While Yennefer knew very well who did it, and also knew that Tissaia might even have been involved with Coral’s activities, so many years ago, she decided not to tell anything which the rectoress might want to remain a secret. Thus, she followed it up with a brisk: “let’s keep searching.” 

And search they did, for hours and hours. Yet still, they found nothing that could help them. Only a great number of accounts and stories of mages who the metal had been fatal to. With every book, Yennefer slowly felt the time ticking by. Every discarded book meant that Tissaia suffered longer, and she found herself sinking into dark thoughts at that realization. Eventually, an apprentice came by with tea and a note from Coral that said that she did expect all three of them to be in the mess hall with the rest of the occupants of Aretuza for dinner. She had also written _‘the pendant is heavy around my neck’_ , which made Triss wince, Sabrina sigh and Yennefer felt the strong urge to crush the letter in her hand and march up to Tissaia’s chambers to tell her to stop being so fatalistic. It was rather ironic, considering that Tissaia had said the same thing to her on the eve before the battle. 

“This stuff isn’t meant to be cured,” Sabrina mumbled, vocalising what they all had in mind. 

“Indeed,” Triss chimed in. “I know how to treat the individual symptoms; the damaged tissue, the headaches and the fever… even the thinning blood, while that’s already more difficult than-” 

“Wait, thinning blood?” All of the sudden, Yennefer frowned, putting down a scroll and looking into Triss’ concerned eyes. A thought, belonging to a time she didn’t wish to think about, came to the forefront of her mind. In that tent, on the mountain, whilst supposedly hunting a dragon, she had seen a belt be shed. And, inquisitive as she was, she had asked about the contents of the numerous pouches and vials on it. One of them was especially interesting to her now. She realized that she had been zoning out slightly, so she cleared her throat and said: “I once heard of a potion, that Witchers use. They take it before fighting monsters that are known to inflict deep wounds. It makes their blood clot quickly, so they don’t bleed to death in the fight.” 

Triss’ eyes widened as she leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “You mean Kiss?”  
  
“Kiss?” 

“Yes, that’s how it’s called. A very potent, dangerous substance to use. Too much could make blood clots form in the arteries themselves, instead of on the surface of the wounds. ” The healer frowned and took a deep breath, fidgeting with her fingers. “In theory, that could potentially help her… or at the very least, it would give us a few more days to seek out a cure.” She looked at Yennefer, a glimmer of hope shining through in her eyes. “Do you know the vial size?” 

It made Yennefer feel relieved that she seemed to shift into her professional healer’s attitude, all theoretical knowledge and facts. Though she had to admit that she had been preoccupied with other things than the vial size of the witcher’s potions. Geralt hadn’t been particularly talkative about it either, only confiding in her that it was the smallest dosage of any potion that he carried with him. This, Yennefer said to Triss as well. 

“Good. I can track down the kind of vials that their guild uses, that shouldn’t be too hard. Though that dosage might be too much for Tissaia. We have no way of truly knowing how much we should use, and any misstep could have lethal consequences!” The panic rapidly returned to Triss’ eyes and she averted them to stare at the patterns of the wooden table beneath her hands.

“Triss, relax,” Yennefer said. She knew that she was perhaps a bit more blunt than was pleasant, especially since she could feel Sabrina’s eyes on her. But this was absolutely not the moment where they should work themselves into a panic about a potential breakthrough in their research. “Tissaia is… what, half the size of the average witcher, right? Just use half the dosage, it can’t be too much then.” 

That might be too little,” Triss objected, even as she lifted her gaze to Yennefer. “Well, at least it will have some kind of effect. It’s just… the potion itself isn’t very hard to make, but I fear I can’t brew it myself. It gives off a lot of fumes and I can’t inhale them.” Triss looked to her lover for aid, and Sabrina nodded with a kind smile. 

“Your allergies. We know that, Triss. Don’t worry, we’ll brew it.”

“What do we need in order to craft the potion?” Yennefer said as she stood, relieved that they were finally able to do something for Tissaia which might help buy her some much needed time. It wasn’t a cure, but it felt like progress.

“Just a few items, I know there is some vermillion in the alchemy workshop. Sabrina if you could retrieve some white myrtle petals from the gardens, we will need to make some vitriol with it. Then we will need a hard alcohol base for the potion, any kind will do. Yen, would you get some from the kitchens? I’ll bring everything else we need to create this potion and meet you in Tissaia’s chambers.” Triss flashed a hopeful smile as she scanned over the mess of books on the table before them.

As Yennefer headed towards the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall as she quickened her pace and she thought back to Coral’s note. How heavy the burden must be. Though it was something she had never truly thought about before, she wondered how Tissaia had managed to do it for so long. The thought of her predecessor, Klara Larissa de Winter, came to mind. How had Tissaia felt when that heavy burden had been passed to her?

The kitchen of Aretuza was large, and fortunately the store rooms were empty of prying eyes as they were most likely in the serving area preparing to dish out the meals in the mess hall. Relieved that she could freely rummage through the various cupboards until she found a bottle of alcohol she could sneak out of the area.

“I haven’t done this for a while.” She laughed to herself quietly as she uncorked a bottle of local pepper vodka and took a sniff. It’s strong odour was almost enough to collapse her throat and she found herself retracting her neck as far back as possible, causing her chin to wrinkle several times in a very unflattering way. Pressing the cork quickly back into the bottle, she placed it back on the shelf and searched for another. The Temerian rye smelled even worse and she didn’t even bother to open any of the bottles without labels.

“Aren’t you a little old to be sneaking liquor from the kitchen?” Yennefer jumped at the sudden intrusion, nearly dropping the bottle of rye onto the floor.

“Shit… Coral, you can’t sneak up on people like that!” She exhaled as she put the bottle back on the shelf and shut the door. “Aside from that, it’s not for me. It’s for Tissaia, we think we found something which might slow the bleeding while we search for a way to remove the dimeritium from her bloodstream.”

With that, the red haired mage seemed to soften. Yennefer glanced at the pendant she wore around her neck. Tissaia’s pendant, with the star-shaped sigil of Aretuza glinting in the low light. She observed how her posture seemed to be much more stiff, she carried herself well. Her skin looked healthier each time she saw her, and you would never know she was missing an arm through the lengthy sleeves of her robes.

“What are you looking for, Vengerberg?”

“I need an alcoholic base to make a potion, but I don’t want to use any of this… disgusting swill. It would just as likely burn a hole in her stomach if she were to drink it. There has to be a higher quality liquor I can use, I know Aretuza entertains many high ranking guests.” Yennefer followed Coral as she waved her hand and walked over to an ornate cabinet which sat in the far corner of the store room. It’s gilded woodcarving and gold accents told her this was obviously the place she should have checked first.

She noticed a locking mechanism on the front, it was a reverse indentation of the pendant forged only for the Rectoress of Aretuza. It released the lock after Coral had pressed it into the shallow depression like a key. Once she did so, the lock opened with a hissing sound and the doors slowly swung open, revealing a much finer collection of spirits.

The mage reached into the precious reserved and pulled a dark bottle out with a label that looked aged. It’s cork was sealed with wax.

“Cherry spirit cordial, this is Tissaia’s choice drink when she does so.” Coral paused before handing it to her, a smirk appeared on her face.

Yennefer furrowed her brow at the look and held out her hand, “what?”

“You wanted to make this potion with the good alcohol, for her. That’s cute.” She said as she arched her brow and handed her the smooth bottle then turned to close the cabinet, it’s locking mechanism rotated until it clicked into place once again.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed, even as she swallowed heavily.

Coral turned to leave, hardly sparing her a second glance as she headed back to the mess hall. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out someday. Do hurry with that potion though, I have no intention of wearing this thing around my neck forever.”

Yennefer found herself clutching tightly at the neck of the bottle as she opened a portal to Tissaia’s chambers and stepped through it. Triss and Sabrina had already made their way back, and both turned to look at her briefly from a table near her bed before Sabrina continued grinding what appeared to be white myrtle petals with a mortar and pestle until it was a fine paste.

“Be sure not to grind too hard, you’ll ruin the structure and then the vitriol won’t form properly. Then this little idea of yours will have no chance of working” Tissaia offered tiredly as Sabrina silently continued with what she was doing. She held her hand over the mortar and recited an incantation which condensed the paste until it was a blue glassy crystal which almost appeared purple along it’s sharp edges.

On the table next to mortar was a flat circular stone with a spiraling design, a glass beaker, a large spoon, some vermillion and a small vial. Triss ran her finger along the spiral, causing the pattern to glow blue and become warm to the touch. Tissaia carefully watched her every move through a tired gaze.

“Now, just add the vermillion and the vitriol into the beaker and place it on the stone until both start to melt just a bit. Once it does, Yen, pour enough base to reach the third measurement line, then stir it until it is completely dissolved. Then fill that small vial to the halfway mark,” Triss said as she backed up and tied a heavy cloth mask around her nose and mouth, being certain her hair didn’t interfere with the way it sealed her face from the harmful fumes with would soon come her way.

As the two followed Triss’ instructions precisely, Tissaia glanced at the bottle Yennefer held in her hand. A strained chuckle escaped her lips. “Who did you have to bribe to get that bottle? It’s only used when special guests arrive in Aretuza.”

“Coral was kind enough to unlock that fancy cabinet for me so you didn’t have to drink the piss that the rest of us do.” Yennefer replied as she broke the wax and opened the bottle, slowly pouring the desired amount into the beaker as Sabrina stirred the contents. Wisps of smoke began to rise from the mixture.

_‘Coral, that’s wonderful.’_ Tissaia groaned to herself, knowing she would eventually hear something about this from the woman. She sank lower into her bed, clutching her abdomen as she did so. A sharp pain accompanied the motion which served as a distraction.

“Are you alright?” Violet eyes full of concern met hers as she stopped momentarily.

Tissaia lifted a hand and waved at her dismissively. “I’m fine, just pay attention to what you are doing, piglet. You are pouring too much.”

With a sigh, Yennefer proceeded to fill the beaker until it was where Triss had indicated. Once the healer nodded to them with approval, Sabrina carefully began to pour the contents into the small vial until the halfway mark.

“Be sure you don’t spill any of it, it will stain the wood.” Tissaia barked at them.

“That’s enough from you.” Sabrina replied harshly, “You are breaking my concentration and now I’ve already spilled some. I’ll clean it off as Yen helps you drink this, it will be fine.”

Nervously the raven haired woman stepped closer, apparently having been volunteered for this task. She grasped the small vial in her hand and carefully sat next to Tissaia on the bed, taking great care not to cause the mattress to dip too quickly.

“I can do this on my own, give me the vial.” Tissaia reached for it but Yennefer withdrew her hand.”

“Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you tried something like that?” Her eyes flitted from Tissaia’s pale face to the still present soup stain on the blanket. She frowned before scooting closer and slipping her arm carefully under Tissaia’s neck to raise her up just enough to help her sip the contents of the potion. Yennefer noticed how soft her hair was as her hand brushed across it, something she had never wondered about before. Nor had she noticed just how beautiful her eyes were until they were drilling holes through her with an icy stare. Pushing those thoughts aside, she watched as she drank the last of “Kiss”.

Triss pulled down her mask and stepped closer, the harmful fumes having finally dissipated. “This is a fairly fast acting potion, we should see results right away. Now, I would like you to take a proper bath. I have been keeping your wounds as clean as I can but that can only go so far. It needs to be assisted though. Your wounds are still too great for you to be moving about alone.”

Before Yen could even think, she found herself offering her services. “I’ll do it.”

Tissaia’s eyes widened and she nearly sat up herself until the pain of her injuries reminded her that she shouldn’t do that. “No, I don’t need help. I can do that on my own.”

“No, Tissaia, you can’t. I don’t want you putting too much pressure on that leg, nor do I want you trying to hoist yourself in and out of that tub. I also don’t want you to strain yourself trying to wash.” Triss had entered her healer’s mode, which was completely necessary given the sheer stubbornness of her patient.

Clenching her jaw and making no effort to hide the scowl on her face, she finally relented to Triss’ demand. “Very well then, Yennefer draw a bath.”

As Triss and Sabrina gathered the items used to make the potion and left the room, Tissaia laid back onto the pillow and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the water coming from the adjacent room as Yen slipped away to fill the tub. She felt the effects of the potion they had collectively concocted already taking effect as a small scrape on the back of her hand, which had been bleeding profusely, seemed to halt its flow to nothing more than a slow trickle of blood. Perhaps it was wistful illusion, but it seemed as if both the puncture in her thigh and her largest injury were hurting just a little less severely. 

Having people fussing over her this much was both exhausting and endearing.

Just as she felt the warm embrace of sleep creep along the edges of her wakefulness, she heard a soft voice calling to her. “It’s ready.”

Her heart clenched at the realization that she actually had to go through with this, but the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could return to a bed which was beginning to feel like a prison. Perhaps getting up was a better idea, even if it meant exposing herself to this woman whose warm hands were now carefully positioning themselves on her body to help her out of her confinement.

She shuddered slightly and then coughed, relieved it was absent the taste of blood. Shifting carefully with Yennefer’s guidance until she sat upright, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed and her feet far from being able to touch the ground. The pain in her leg flared and agonizing pain in her stomach returned. She whimpered as she clutched tightly onto Yennefer’s shoulder.

“I’ll carry you to the tub, you can’t walk like this. Wrap your arms around my neck and I’ll lift you up.” The sorceress said as she was already carefully slipping her one arm beneath her legs at the knees and the other around her back, taking care to avoid the ribs which had been cut deeply in Fringilla’s attack.

Unable to fight both the pain _and_ Yennefer, she did as she was told and slipped her arms around her neck slowly. She clung tightly to the other sorceress as she was hoisted up, burying her face into her thick hair and the crook of her neck as Yen walked hesitatingly towards the bathroom. All the while trying to ignore the torment of her damaged body, her **_dying_ **body.

Tissaia wanted to confess to her just how much everything hurt, how a few days felt like a lifetime of suffering. To be severed from her connection to magic, to be reliant upon everybody else, unable to walk or to even bathe unassisted… something she hadn’t done since the battle of Sodden Hill.

She couldn’t even remember just how long ago the battle actually was and felt herself collapsing 

at the thought, until she remembered the heat of Yennefer's flames as they danced around her and protected her. The memory of the scorched particulate, as it drifted through the smoke filled atmosphere while she proudly rose up so she could look upon her former student, stood out to her so profoundly that she felt as if she could have died right that second and fulfilled her destiny.

The older woman wanted to break down entirely and sob uncontrollably into the neck of her caring companion, who had been attentively lingering by her side almost constantly. Even while she was unconscious, she could feel Yennefer’s presence drifting about.

Once she felt the warmth of the water upon her legs as Yennefer lowered her down to the edge of the oval shaped ceramic bathtub, which was recessed into the floor, she started to regain her composure. She did not have the luxury to appear weak, and the nature of the water helped her to feel that way once again, for the resistance in the water allowed her legs to float almost effortlessly and with minimal pain.

“I can take care of myself, piglet,” she said boldly.

“Oh? Because it doesn’t appear that is the case at the moment.” Yennefer replied with a cocky grin as she looked Tissaia in the eyes through the reflection of a full length mirror which was leaning against the wall.

Tissaia glared at her in the reflection until Yennefer used her own magic to rotate it just enough so she could no longer look upon her frail form. “Just so you don’t think I’m cheating,” the mage replied as she leaned down to help her undress, lowering her carefully into the water once she had been freed of her clothing. She stayed behind Tissaia’s back for the entire time, even going as far as to close her eyes when taking the nightgown from her. 

“Nobody who is smart plays fair, I’m sure I’ve taught you that lesson before.” Tissaia huffed as she leaned back against the wall of the bath, the warmth of the water encompassed her and she relaxed.

“You have taught me quite a few things.” The younger sorceress replied as she waved her hand and lowered the intensity of the candles which lit the room. The fire _begged_ her to make it brighter once again but she silenced those thoughts. Now was not the time, for she had finally understood what it was to be in control of her chaos.

“Enlighten me. What else have you learned?”

Yennefer began to kick off her boots and untie her own dress, allowing them to fall to the ground as she humored the injured woman. “I have learned that you shouldn’t piss off a healer who is trying to care for someone. _Especially_ a healer who has a wife that could destroy you with a single bolt of lightning, should you fuck up.”

Tissaia tensed as she felt the water ripple when Yen entered the tub herself. “ **_What_ ** are you doing?”

“I have also learned that you shouldn’t waste water, and I need to take a bath as well. I have been probing the sources of Aretuza’s supply and know that it takes a great amount of effort to supply this establishment with clean water, being that it is surrounded by nothing but the salt of the sea and the sands of the earth.” 

Tissaia tried to avert her eyes from Yennefer’s perfect figure as she sank into the tub, displacing the water just enough to allow it to splash out of the bath and onto the floor. She could see the barest glimpse of her side, and even that made her cheeks heat up. She shifted her position from the side of the tub to the middle, sitting on a pedestal which was designed to serve as an underwater footstool.

She felt Yennefer lean against her back as she continued to speak. “I have also learned that you are rather reserved, whereas I am not.”

_“Hmm.”_ Tissaia could hardly respond to that for she was correct.

“You don’t have to be reserved with me, I’m not here to judge you. I just don’t want to see you hurting.” Her voice faded as she said the words and the water once again shifted as the raven haired sorceress turned around and started to wet her hair. Yennefer's hands felt so good as they worked in a fragrant shampoo, gently massaging her scalp. The sensation felt far better than anything else she had been feeling as of late and she found herself thinking about things which she knew she shouldn’t. She had never felt so exposed before both physically and emotionally and the only protection she had at this point was the day old bandage still affixed to her stomach.

“Stop. Just turn around and leave me be!” Tissaia said sharply as she tried to pull away from everything she had just felt in order to give her the cold shoulder.

“Do you want to get _the look_ from Triss? I sure as shit don’t, and as I said earlier, from the list of things I’ve learned, you don’t piss off the healer. So just let me wash you and then we can be done with this,” Yennefer replied with just a touch of hurt in her voice.

“Just hurry up. I’m getting tired.” Tissaia said as she felt Yennefer’s soft touch on her back, drawing up the water with a sponge and then running a bar of soap over her skin with the other and then dropping the sponge and letting it drift as she used her free hand to scoop the water up and rinse off the soap. 

Her body reacted against her will and she sunk into the water as goosebumps formed, once again, from Yennefer's touch.

“Can your feet even touch the ground or do I need to drain some of the water so you can sit without floating?” Yennefer stated, thankfully breaking her own thoughts apart as she grabbed a cloth and started to scrub over her own legs. “Turn around, let me wash your front… wait, are you still wearing the bandage?”  
  


“No!” Tissaia exasperated as she sank even lower into the water until the waterline touched the bottoms of her earlobes. “I mean, yes, my feet can still touch the ground and yes, I’m still wearing the bandage.” Whether it had been a poor joke or an real question, she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth. “But no, I do not need you to wash my front. I can do it myself. Now, turn around and do not look at me until I tell you to. Or just… wait outside.”

Yen hummed as she laughed, turning around and pushing herself up and out of the tub. “Alright, just be sure to let me know when you stop being so prudish and decide that you need help. Just know that I won’t be warming the water back up with my magic either.”

The angle of the mirror allowed her to see that Yennefer was drying off in the bedroom, vigorously running the towel through her hair in an attempt to dry it. Tissaia stared down at the distorted vision of her toes for a period of time longer than she accounted for, wondering when her heart had turned as cold as the temperature of the water, and just when Yennefer of Vengerberg had started to feel like the only person who could keep her warm. Her hands shook when she undid the bandage, avoiding having to look down at the blackened veins that spread on her skin as much as she could. She could barely do more than wash the edges of it, and had to clench her jaw to prevent a pained sound from escaping her. The stabbing pain in her stomach began to return as she sat in the darkness, the candles having long since burned out. The arrow wound in her thigh was pounding and her head hurt. The water splashed gently from the tub as she carefully turned and relented.

“Yennefer, I need your help getting out of the tub.”

Quietly the younger woman returned to the bathroom, she had been dried and fully dressed for quite some time. Without being insufferable, she gently pulled her from the tub and unlocked the drain, supporting her until she had maneuvered her to a bench near the tub. Still, she looked mostly to a point in between Tissaia’s shoulder blades, trying not to stumble. That was hard, since the floor was wet and she couldn’t see her own feet. And she didn’t want to make the situation a thousand times as awkward by seeing more than Tissaia wanted her to see. 

“Hand me the towel and then leave me be.”

Yennefer did as she asked and as she turned for the door Tissaia felt both regret and a word forming in the back of her throat. _‘Stay’_. She let the word and the moment pass. Never before had she been so confused. Carefully she patted herself dry with the towel and then wrapped it around herself to cover her body and her wounds. 

Trying to stand on her own was almost impossible as the pain in her leg reminded her that she was still too weak to do this alone. Vulnerability was a feeling she hated more than anything else.

“Yennefer, would you help me back into bed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wanted to make this chapter longer, but it was already 8k+ words so we decided to split it into 2.
> 
> Some little details about Tissaia, Philippa and Coral’s time in Aretuza, that we’ve touched upon during their scene:  
> \- Tissaia figured out she was gay after Philippa Eilhart had loudly proclaimed her own gayness  
> \- Tissaia did not catch her lightning in the bottle! 
> 
> Yennefer: [is concerned]  
> Tissaia: “u smell”  
> Yennefer: looks down at herself and realizes Triss tried to [gently warn her]
> 
> CHAPTER 2 HAS SOUNDTRACK NOW!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings continue to be denied, Coral is once again poking at Tissaia about those feelings. Triss and Sabrina continue to be a good couple, while Yennefer is still doing the Yennefer thing. The night will fall soon, but what it will bring is still uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissaia accidentally turning her hair pink when she was a student is a reference to the fact that her actress currently has pink hair.

Yennefer tried to put it behind her, everything which had happened within the span of a few minutes, an hour of flitting around in Tissaia’s bedroom, then another few minutes. She ignored the pounding of her heart and the ache in her chest as she marched to the library with firm steps. Surely she was beyond this. In fact, she had been beyond this ever since leaving Geralt and that damned mountaintop behind. Her own words echoed within her head.  _ ‘He has already left me.’  _

Only when she threw open the double doors of the library with such force that several apprentices yelped as they sat at the long table in the center of it, and Triss and Sabrina were startled in their corner, did she notice the extent of her anger. She tried to soften her actions and lighten her steps as she approached them.

“I’m sorry,” she said once she was standing beside them, still breathing heavily, “I’m just… frustrated. Yes, I’m frustrated with this entire… situation.” 

“So are we, Yennefer,” Sabrina answered, her tone echoing the meaning of her words. “And tired, that too.” Each of them looked the part, with dark bags under their eyes and hollow expressions on their faces. None of them seemed to bother with brushing their hair anymore.

Triss seemed ready to fall asleep with her face on the table, as she watched Yennefer sit down. She picked up a scroll so old that it seemed to crumble underneath her fingers. With utter care, she rolled it out and showed it to Yennefer. “We found… something that might help us.” 

“That’s Elder writing,” Yennefer said as she scanned over the scroll. She thought back to a time when she had wished to learn how to read it and write it as well, for it was the language of her distant elven ancestors. Upon realizing how complex it was, however, she had abandoned her interest in favor of other subjects, most of which seemed trivial at this point. She had never felt more regretful of anything else in her life. Her heart ached at the thought that  _ she _ could have been the key to unraveling this riddle if only she had stuck with it in her younger years.

Triss nodded in agreement. “Which is precisely the problem. It’s not only Elder, it’s some kind of archaic form of it. I’m not entirely sure if it was from before the Conjunction of the Spheres… or a few years after it.” She pointed at the title of the scroll, taking care not to touch the brittle parchment. “We’ve been trying to decipher it for hours now, as you were… doing whatever you were doing up there, but we haven’t gotten any further than the title.”

Yennefer wanted to reply curtly to Triss’ statement.  _ ‘Assisting Tissaia with bathing, something you yourself had suggested she couldn’t do alone, caring for her, watching over her, falling in…’  _ She stopped and shook her head to clear those thoughts, for there were more important matters to attend to at the moment. Shifting both her gaze and her mind to the tattered scroll, she tried to translate anything she possibly could. At least the title was fairly simple.

_ The Forging of Dimeritium _

Yennefer read it aloud, causing both of the other women to cringe. She felt proud  _ and  _ saddened that she still recognized a few of the words from a language which had long since been deceased, even though those words didn’t say what it was that she wanted them to say. “And you think that  _ this  _ will yield us a cure? The last thing we need is to make _ more  _ of it.”    
  
“We have no other choice, Yen.” Triss showed her some notes that she had taken, on a piece of parchment that was dotted with ink splatters and what seemed like random words.

_ Search for dimeritium and removal. _

_ There is nothing which outlines the process, instead look for healing Dimeritium poisoning. _

A hastily drawn star indicated a follow up note;  _ *there was nothing with regards to that either. _

The last notation accentuated just how desperate the healer had become.

_ Look for anything written by a blacksmith who forged the material into weaponry, perhaps they had an accident while working with the element. _

“This is what we’ve done so far, but as long as we can’t read entire sentences in this old dialect, we can’t figure out what it says exactly.” Triss covered the paper with her hand and sighed sadly. Sabrina reached for a lock of her untamed hair and spun it around her finger. Something Yennefer knew, from spending so much time around the pair, meant that Triss was becoming hopeless and Sabrina was trying to comfort her.

“Here!” Yennefer exclaimed as she pointed to a faint marking on the page. “This word,  _ bloede _ . It means bloody or gory. It was often used to describe a wound or a cut. Instead of saying something was simply bleeding, they would describe it as if an artery ruptured, even if it was just a small injury.”

Sabrina offered a tired chuckle as she carefully ran her thumb along the edge of the scroll, pressing it against the table as she pointed to a few other obscure writings on the delicate paper. She rotated the scroll slightly, so Yennefer could read a scribble in the lower left corner better. “What about these words? What does it say there?”

As she scanned the section of the page Sabrina was pointing at, one word stood out to her. “ _ Gàidh _ ,” she said aloud.

Triss looked at her with nothing but anticipation and Yennefer found it hard herself to have any kind of hope, since she knew this word had little to do with forging a metal.

“It means garden, but I don’t know what these other words are.” Her shoulders slumped and her stomach started to turn unpleasantly. “Wait, that there is  _ blath _ . Flower, or herb.” 

“What do flowers have to do with forging dimeritium?” Sabrina asked tiredly. She peered at the scribble, squashed away in the corner, apart from the main text. Perhaps someone had just written down how to make a refreshing beverage for those busy in the forge all day. 

“I might know what they are.” A youthful voice called out from behind them, causing all three of them to stop wallowing in their misery and turn around. It was one of the apprentices. Yennefer recognized her from the time she had entered her old room. This wasn’t the one who had insulted her, but the girl with the burn scar on her cheek. Her arms were filled with books on various subjects.

“How would you know?” Sabrina said with an edge of disbelief in her voice.

The young girl suddenly looked frozen in time as the three most powerful women in the entire academy gazed upon her expectantly. “I… because I’m of elven descent. My grandmother was half-elf. She used to make teas and cook using several different herbs and spices. She always called them by their archaic Elder name and would write their names on the labels of the jars she kept them in. Told me it was passed down to her from several generations and she wanted me to know as well.”

Yennefer stood aside and motioned her to come forward. “Well, what are you waiting for, we haven’t got all day.”

The apprentice set down the stack of books she held in her arms on a nearby table and swallowed thickly as she approached the scroll, which was still being held open by a few intimidating looking ladies. As she studied the rugged shapes of the text, her lips moved silently. Slowly she started to pronounce a word. “Ver… verbena! Also called vervain, you can make tea with it. I've seen it growing wild along the eastern wall of the academy.”

Triss nodded her head. “Yes! I know which plant you mean. That can’t be the only ingredient to this. It looks like there is another word here. Is there something,  _ anything _ else you see?”

Once again the youth directed her attention to the faded text. Her eyebrows came together in a tight frown. “Felandine?” Her voice wavered as she said it, knowing there was no such thing, but understanding what the ancient characters were, she was confident that was what it read.

“That’s not even a word.” Sabrina huffed impatiently as she stepped back and began to pace around the table.

Yennefer wanted nothing more than to slink into the dusty chair which was just a few feet away from her, so she did just that. Leaning her head back against an uncomfortable headrest, she closed her eyes and rubbed her hands into her face. There was a strong possibility that a cure for Tissaia’s ailment was etched on the single page laid out before them, but due to the fact that so many words had been lost in translation over the ages, they may never know what that other word might say.

Her eyes shot open and she flew out of the chair, nearly kicking it over during the process. She gently pushed aside the apprentice to look at the word in question for herself, recalling a chapter she had read on the way some people translated archaic elder to traditional elder over the years. Some things ended up being slightly off.

“Celandine! It’s a herb too. Used to grow behind the pig pen… and I had to weed it out, because it’s also extremely poisonous.” Yennefer smiled as she touched the word on the paper. “I read about this. Sometimes people would use the letter ‘f’ instead of the ‘c’ when it came to translating archaic Elder, since the characters are very similar in shape.”

“But what do we do with them?” Triss asked, a spark of hope in her eyes.

Scanning the page for any other words she recognized, she stopped at one. “ _ En'leass _ , I remember that means to lace or to tie something. Usually armor or clothing, but it could mean placing something on the body as well. It was a strangely universal word for many things. And this word here…  _ éadach _ , it means cloth.”

For what seemed like an eternity, silence blanketed the main library of Aretuza. The young apprentice Fola awkwardly stood with them, knowing she had offered all she could, yet she was still unwilling to leave them just yet. Yen fidgeted with the corner of the scroll as Sabrina watched Triss. The look on the healer’s face meant she was thinking and those thoughts, whatever they might be, were intense.

Suddenly she gasped loud enough to startle every person in the library. “I think I know what we need to do!” Elated, she began tracing the parchment with her finger. “It’s a compress, with herbs. Just like what you’d put on a severe injury, against the pain. One of the few options for  _ me,  _ because of my potion allergies. Celandine… you use the sap from that, not the entire plant. It has this bright yellow sap, which smells very bitter.” 

“ _ Mhmm _ ,” Yennefer chimed in. “That’s also why I had to get rid of it, in Vengerberg. The stuff stains everything. I used to paint patterns on the pig pen with it.” 

“What does the rest say?” Triss asked the apprentice. She laid an assuring hand onto the girl’s shoulder. Clearly she was very good with children. 

Leaning closer, Fola furrowed her brow. Hesitantly, she murmured: “There’s an incantation written above it. Then it says: when getting contaminated with…  _ aedd _ ? With shards? No, that can’t be right - oh, with  _ pieces _ of dimeritium, you will need to recite that incantation until your hands feel… cold. No, until they feel numb.”

Yennefer felt her heart begin to race as the girl read on. They were so close to finally having a cure, even if it looked like an emergency fix for small amounts of dimeritium. 

“Then you need to make the compress, with the herbs. And then… leave it on the injury until it has… gone dark? Because of the blood?” Fola looked helplessly at Triss, not knowing what to make of that last part. 

“Until it’s blackened,” Yennefer said. “The blood mixes with the celandine sap, makes it black. You know, yellow and red.” 

“Does it say anything with regards to how long this process will take, or if it’s… painful?” Sabrina hesitated as she asked the darker question which was probably lingering on the back of everyone’s mind. How much more would Tissaia have to suffer before she could truly begin to recover.

“I can’t tell.” Fola replied sadly as she scanned the entire document for anything else which might be useful. “My grandmother told me that the ancients never developed a written way to write out increments of time. They only used the length of shadows and the angle with which they laid across the ground as indication of the time of day, depending on the season. Nothing to describe how long it took to get from sunrise to sunset, so I doubt they would have included that in this text.”

“That’s alright, we can try to make this work with what we know at this point.” Triss said as she began to roll the scroll up with her own hands carefully. “Thank you so much, for helping with this. If we succeed… go to the rectoress, Tissaia, not Coral, and tell her how you aided us. She will give you a worthy reward.” The healer added as she stood and looked to the other two sorceresses who were eager to begin working on a cure, _ finally. _

“Sabrina, can you help me gather the materials we need? Sterile cloth wraps, plenty of magically enhanced water for disinfecting both our hands and her skin.” The dark haired healer hummed as she added her last set of items, “bowls, we need a few more wash bowls in the room for this. I will gather the herbs we need, I know where to find them. The extracts we need from the herbs will be ready by tomorrow.”

The blonde haired woman stepped closer and stood on her toes to kiss her wife on the cheek before she left, her heavy braid swinging triumphantly as she turned and walked away. “Of course.”

Yennefer stood expectantly, surely there was some way she could assist with this process. Triss turned her head and looked at her. The request which fell from her lips almost made her heart seize and she felt every muscle stiffen as she tried to process what it was she would need to do. 

“Would you go tell Tissaia that we have found something?” The healer left with the scroll in her hand, ignoring the attendant who seemed eager to make sure there was a log of the item being removed from the library.

Yennefer smiled at the apprentice Fola, who had remained in the area even after Sabrina and Triss had left. It was as if she were waiting for her to depart before deciding that it was appropriate to gather her books back up and continue with her studies.

The scent of magic filled the air as she lifted her hand and began to weave a circular pattern into the atmosphere. The air shifted and every loose piece of paper within a nearby radius began to flutter about as her portal began to swirl and then take shape. It was the exact reason Tissaia also had a rule of ‘no portals in the library’. She focused her thoughts on the space just in front of Tissaia’s door. Soon her portal solidified and she was ready to step through, but first, she took a deep breath and nodded towards Fola.

“Continue to study that language and keep it alive.” It was the last thing she said to the young apprentice as she crossed the threshold of her own magically created wormhole and found herself standing before Tissaia’s living quarters. She rested her palm on the handle of the door as the portal behind her dissipated, unable to ascertain the reason for her delay in bringing her this news.

Perhaps it was the fear that what they had discovered would lead to nothing but a dead end. Or maybe it was because she had started to care for someone more than she cared for herself, and the thought of losing her was utterly devastating.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pushed open the door and inhaled deeply to tell Tissaia that they had found a possible solution, hoping that she would be sleeping when she walked in. Her words were cut short as she found herself flailing about, having stumbled over a package placed just on the inside of the door.

“Fuck...” Yennefer uttered to herself as she caught herself on the doorframe with her left hand.

“Is something the matter, piglet?” Tissaia’s sleepy voice cut through her own moment and Yennefer found herself completely derailed. She had hoped that Tissaia would be asleep, so she did not have to wake her and could just leave a letter on the nightstand.

“It’s just… I tripped over this parcel. Who places a package in a doorway like this? This is absurd.” She exasperated as she leaned down to pick up the offending object. It was a long and slender shaped box wrapped carefully with rough twine to keep it closed.

Tissaia glanced at the box with a focused gaze before making eye contact with Yennefer. She then took a deep breath as she laid her head back into the softness of her many pillows. “You have always been clumsy, Yennefer. Do not blame others for that which you cannot see right in front of your face.”

With a frown, Yennefer leaned the package against the wall and made her way closer to the bed, taking note of the fact that Tissaia did look better. Even if it was only a slightly marginal improvement from what she had looked like before she consumed the potion, “Kiss”.

“I came here to tell you that we found something. Triss and Sabrina are working on gathering everything now, but this might actually work. We might be able to remove the dimeritium with it.” She found the tone of her own voice convincing, and she wanted more than anything to believe it to be true.

For a moment, Tissaia’s eyes seemed to light up but after a few seconds they dimmed once again and she slumped back into her bed. Her head was pounding and although she felt somewhat better, now that she was no longer leaking blood and having since bathed, she wasn’t ready to get her hopes up just yet. “I’m sure you have. Now… the package. Would you bring it to me?”

Yennefer felt hurt that their revelation had been so quickly dismissed, especially after having spent hours scouring through every textbook and scroll they could possibly find. But, there was something simple which Tissaia desired at the moment and so she did as she was asked and brought the package to her, sitting on the edge of the bed as she laid it in her lap.

Without interfering, she watched Tissaia as she pulled at the twine until it fell off the box and lay in her lap. Carefully she opened the box and smiled so warmly and so proudly that Yennefer almost forgot how sick she was. With both hands, she lifted a cane from the box. It was simple in design, made out of one piece of wood. It’s dark wood was polished to a fine finish and the handle had a smooth, round shape, perfect for her petite hands. The handle was covered with a hard metal. Yennefer knew would strike fear into the hearts of others as Tissaia stalked the halls with it. The tip of it was capped with metal as well, and Tissaia experimentally tapped on the ground next to her bed with it. Despite her current lack of any real strength, the sound rang through the bedroom. 

“Triss would not want you walking about, even with the assistance of that cane,” Yennefer said as she removed the empty box and left Tissaia with her prize.

Tissaia looked deeply into Yennefer’s violet eyes as she ran her fingers along the smooth wood which offered her so much freedom. “I cannot stay confined like this any longer, you of all people should understand.”

Yennefer of Vengerberg did understand, more than most, what it was like to be confined. She recalled how it felt to be trapped in a space and a situation which she couldn’t escape from on her own. Tissaia had saved her, and now it was time to repay the favor. Silently, she vowed to do everything in her power to try and help her, before responding out loud. “I know… I know what that feeling is like.”

“There are a few more features which this device is capable of, unfortunately I cannot use them at the moment. If your plan works, I will provide you with a demonstration.” Tissaia wanted to ask Yennefer to help her stand, to help her learn how to walk again with the cane, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to show such weakness in front of her. She felt tiredness pulling at her, and knew that it was late. It was better to try it out on her own, the following morning, when there were no prying violet eyes on her. 

“Then I look forward to you showing me what else this thing can do.” Yennefer looked on as Tissaia placed the cane against her nightstand, a flicker of a content smile spreading over her features before she laid back down. “Good night, Tissaia,” she quietly said, as her heart began to beat louder and louder in her ears. The sound began to drown everything else out and she found herself not wanting to leave, even though she could see how tired Tissaia was becoming.

It took a few moments before Tissaia briefly opened her blue eyes and responded. “Good night, Yennefer.” Then she sighed deeply and shifted for a few moments, pulling a pained face and cringing with a soft grunt. As she settled, her loose nightgown fell open just enough to expose a bit of her shoulder and back. Yennefer averted her eyes out of respect, but her mind took her to the moment when she had washed that soft skin herself, not that long ago. Once Tissaia finally laid still, Yennefer tiptoed out of the bedroom. 

As she stood in the study for a few moments, staring at a couple of letters on the desk, which were addressed to Coral, she found her thoughts wandering again. Why did she feel this way for Tissaia? What was it that she felt, exactly? How could she so desperately desire to ensure and help the other woman to heal, yet feel as anxious as an inexperienced youth when confronted with the sight of Tissaia’s bare shoulders and back.

The sudden opening of the door to the study startled her and she felt the flames of the candles in the room flicker at her behest, until she saw there was no threat. “ _ Fuck!  _ Coral, stop scaring the shit out of me!”    
  
“Can’t help it that  _ you _ are so mesmerized that you don’t hear my footsteps in the hallway,” Coral said as she made her way to the desk, putting down a stack of papers that she held in between her only arm and her body. “You’re blushing, Vengerberg.” 

“Well, maybe if you would stop frightening me, then… then I wouldn’t be blushing.” Yennefer knew that her sputtering was useless, because she didn’t get a rise out of Coral and she didn’t understand what the older sorceress was poking at either. Not that she wanted to.

Coral shot her an expressionless, yet knowing look. “We both know blushing isn’t a suitable response when you are frightened, and you…  _ specifically you _ … only blush when you have done something really embarrassing or when you are attracted to someone. So... tell me, which is it?”

Yennefer swallowed and then practically spat out her response. “I tripped over something, in front of Tissaia, and almost fell flat on my face.”

“Of course, that  **_must_ ** be it,” The older woman said with a smirk as she set down her documents and pulled out the chair from the desk.

“What’s that?” Yennefer asked, nodding towards the papers on the desk. Anything to distract her own mind from Tissaia and her very confused feelings. 

As Coral sat down in the rectoress’ chair, in Tissaia’s chair, she picked up a drawing from the desk and held it out for Yennefer to see. “This? Some sketches and designs for a prosthesis. I’ve been corresponding with some people from Aedirn who are renowned for their skill in creating prosthetics that connect with a mage’s inner magic. I should be able to move it decently. They’ll send a prototype soon.” 

Yennefer studied the sketches. It looked like a skeletal framework, like the bones of a human arm, but in metal. The joints were drawn out in detail, and several alternative designs for the bone structure were also presented. Then there were a few drawings that detailed some type of leather coverings for the metal base, to make the prosthetic look more like an actual arm and less like bones cast in dark steel. “That will be a work of art,” she had to admit. There were even a few samples of Skelligen inspired embellishments which could be added to some of the leather and parts of the metal.

_ (Art by Greypaws) _

  
  
“If it all works smoothly, yes.” Coral dipped her quill into an inkwell she had used to hold down the corner of the papers, tapping off the excess ink gently before she continued to grade the assignments which laid in front of her. From a passing glance, Yennefer could see that they were the offensive spell exams of the third years’ students. Then Coral sighed, putting down her quill and bringing a hand to the pendant around her neck. She rubbed her thumb over the metal a few times, then looked up at Yennefer. “Is this false, Yen? About the question of what kind of spell to use against drowners, you know, the underwater monsters who some believe to be risen from the dead. The student answered:  _ ‘heat the water with a fire spell’,  _ which is technically not false. It would be effective, even. But there’s a very specific spell against drowners in the curriculum, which  _ should _ have been the answer.” 

Coral threaded her fingers through her red hair, causing her loose bun to become partially undone. “What would Tissaia have said about that?” 

“She would’ve said it’s false. But then again, no one ever uses that spell. You’re not going to recite some stupidly long incantation when drowners are crawling up from the water.” With a tired chuckle, Yennefer watched as Coral notated the answer as false, but added a comment that it could work as well.

The interim rectoress nodded as she flipped to the next exam. “Sometimes real world application of spellwork is far from the textbook version, isn’t it.”

It was, it truly was, Yennefer thought to herself as she hummed and sat along the edge of the expansive desk. She picked up a stack of ungraded papers and began flipping through them, drawing a poignant look from Coral. 

“What? Are you going to make a rule that  _ one is not allowed to sit atop a desk _ ?” Yennefer said mockingly.

Coral furrowed her brow at the other sorceress, then shifted her focus back onto the paper before her, jotting down both an encouraging note for the student and a suggestion to improve the incantation they had decided to study as a main focus. “Yennefer, we both know there is already a rule against that. I’m just not going to enforce it, at the moment, but you better not let Tissaia see you sitting like that.”

With a huff, Yennefer set the papers down and pushed herself off the desk, rounding the corner and seating herself in one of the two chairs in front of the rectoress’ vantage point. Like a civilized person would do.

A period of time elapsed as she listened to the gentle scratching of the nib of a fine quill against paper. The quill Tissaia used almost exclusively while writing. The sound was soothing until another question came to mind.

“Have you heard anything from Vilgefortz?” 

Pausing for just a moment, Coral looked into her eyes and shook her head no. “I don’t remember much after I lost my arm.”

Yennefer flinched as she recalled the painful memory of Coral being chased by several Nilfgaardian soldiers, bleeding from her nose and only having enough resources to cast one last spell. A spell which had been cut short.

“I know,” The red haired sorceress admitted without hesitation or regret. “That you had warned me not to stop running. But I did not listen to you.” 

Yen moved to apologize but Coral interrupted.

“My actions were my own, but you did save me from a fate much worse than a missing arm when you killed those soldiers. At least this way I can still live. But no, to answer your question, I have not heard anything from Vilgefortz since he left me with Triss. That was sometime after you had returned to Aretuza after the battle. I still don’t recall how we got here.”

“Portal, probably.” Yennefer remembered that even she had been strong enough to cast one. Still, Vilgefortz’s absence bothered her more than it should. She wanted to thank the man for his assistance in the battle, for saving Coral and for distracting Cahir for long enough that the mages’ assault could hold back the Nilfgaardian army. “He… I’m sure he’s got tasks to do. And… -” 

“Well, he’s been practically invisible to the methods I’ve tried to use to track him down with. I want to thank him too, but I can’t get a hold of him,” Coral said as she laid another graded paper aside. Then she turned to Yennefer, observing her for a few moments as the younger sorceress frowned. “What’s with the dark look?”    
  
“He wasn’t responding to my telepathy, after the… you know, the mind worms started to fuck everything up. He only really appeared again to save you, it seems.” 

“We were all exhausted, confused and most of us were dying. Wouldn’t surprise me if some things just slipped our minds.” With a halfhearted shrug, Coral grabbed another test. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and rubbed over her forehead. The exhaustion was written all over her features and Yennefer felt a deep pity for her, for a few moments. But then she felt hope again, since they were so close to curing Tissaia. Coral seemed to be with her thoughts in a different place, however. 

“How does Tissaia do this?” she asked softly, staring blankly at the paper beneath her hand. “Making sure no student gets hurt, that they all do their lessons, achieve results… I don’t understand how she doesn’t go insane from it all.” She sighed deeply, and even Yennefer didn’t know an answer to her question, since she had never particularly cared about just  _ how _ Tissaia handled her own wellbeing, in her studying times. And how very different it was now.

“Well, nevermind,” Coral said. “You’re tired, I’m tired. We should sleep. I’m going to finish grading these things, then I’ll head to bed. And you should too. Tomorrow’s the big day, isn’t it?”

“If this ancient method works, we could have Tissaia back in the classroom pestering you to give her back that pendant by the end of the week.” Yennefer half smiled as she gestured loosely at her neck.

Coral rolled her eyes, “as stubborn as she is I’m sure it wouldn’t even take that long. Twenty minutes out of that bed and she will declare herself rectoress again.”

Yennefer turned to leave but paused. Sleep had been a rare pleasure for all of them lately, and as much as she wanted to open a portal to her room and flop unceremoniously onto the bed, the urge to check on Tissaia one last time before she left was overwhelming. Quietly she crept back into her bedroom, hating the fact that the first thing she had become so accustomed to was to make sure she was still breathing.

Tissaia was still lying in the same half curled position on her side and looked to be clutching her abdomen. Yennefer covered her shoulder where her nightgown had fallen open with the blanket, taking care not to cause too much movement.

She padded quietly out of the room and shot a look towards Coral, who only spared her a slight glance as she made her way to the door. The red haired woman finished making a notation on the paper she was grading and blew gently over the ink to help it dry. She then set it aside and reached for the next one. Yennefer felt relieved to see that the stack had decreased substantially and that perhaps the weary substitute would be able to rest as well. Then suddenly, one more thing came to her mind. 

“Oh, by the way,” she said, reaching into her pocket and fishing out a folded piece of paper. “I do believe that this is yours.” 

Coral’s eyes widened. She put down her quill and reached for the painting of questionable nature, as Yennefer elaborated: “Scared the hell out of Triss when she found it. Honestly, what was wrong with you in your student times?”    
  
“I’m not to blame for this one,” Coral said as she studied the unsavoury art. “Philippa used to have these questionable books that had these things in them. She sometimes ripped the illustrated pages out and hid them between the library books. But thank you, I’ll try to return it to her when I’m able to track her down.” 

After offering a last, tired smile to Coral and watching as the one-armed woman folded the paper and slipped into a pocket of her robe, Yennefer turned to the door. Soon, she was in her own quarters and her eyes closed almost the moment her head hit the pillow, having just shed her dress and slipped under the covers. Her thoughts wandered somewhere between hope and doubt. Yennefer didn’t want to think about what could possibly go wrong but her mind kept going back and forth until she was utterly exhausted and willing to accept that she would just have to wait and see if this plan worked.

~~~

The sound of the birds singing just outside the window told Tissaia that the sun would be up soon. It had been the first night since she had received her injury where she actually slept through the night. Carefully she rolled to her back, expecting to feel some type of excruciating pain, but none came. There was the dull aching in her abdomen and a throbbing sensation in her leg. Neither of those things were near painful enough to keep her from thinking about the cane still leaning against the nightstand.

Her independence. 

Sliding the blankets to the side, she sat upright and stretched. Being in bed for so long was making her feel so weak. It was important that she appeared strong, especially in front of the impressionable students. Tissaia de Vries needed to appear indestructible.

“First I will need to be able to stand,” she uttered to herself as she crawled to the edge of the bed and reached for the cane. The hardened wood had a fine polish and she felt even stronger as she gripped the metal handle and prepared to stand on her own for the first time since she had been shot in the leg.

It took a great deal of effort to hoist herself up into standing position and she felt the injury to her leg throb once again as she struggled to stand comfortably while using the cane to brace herself. She took a few moments to examine herself for any signs of bleeding, something she had been used to seeing. When she was confident there was none, she took a step forward… and then another. Carefully favoring her injured right leg as she walked with the cane a few paces at a time until she felt comfortable enough to make her way to the armoire. Knowing that she could still walk on her own gave her the confidence to try and dress herself  _ without assistance _ . 

The rustling sound of cloth against cloth as she flipped through her selection of perfectly tailored dresses was satisfying and a smile crept along her face as she selected something simple. It was a dark green dress with gold buttons down the front, nothing too cumbersome. The sleeves had a pattern which crossed over each other and the collar was high and perfectly pressed. As soon as she was dressed, she looked herself over in the mirror and tapped the hard tip of the cane on the floor. Her smile morphed into a smirk as she knew just how intimidating she would be, walking down the halls of Aretuza like this.

She unwound her hair and brushed it out, smoothing all the fine hairs which had strayed during the course of the night, back into place before winding it back into her preferred style. This had been her routine for a period of time longer than she could remember. There was just one other part of the routine which was missing. To teach.

The steady hard tap of the tip of her cane echoed throughout the corridors as she made her way to the classrooms, taking note of several cobwebs along the way. Something she would need to bring up with Coral after the session, as this was a respected establishment and should be kept clear of things such as this. Aside from that, she knew Sabrina hated spiders and had grown tired of hearing her scream every time she saw even the smallest arachnid.

Her gait was unsteady but it mattered little as she pushed open the door to the main classroom, drawing a few gasps from the students and one bewildered look from Coral. The room remained silent as she walked in, the sound of her cane resonated as she approached the teaching podium. Each student had a small bowl of water in front of them which Tissaia knew to mean it was time for the hydromancy portion of the curriculum.

Coral wanted nothing more than to scold her for traveling anywhere unassisted but she knew it would be in poor taste to yank the rectoress from the classroom by her high collar and send her back to her room. It was also important for the students to see her like this. It had weighed heavily on her heart each time one of them asked how Tissaia was doing and she wasn’t able to give them any reports of improvement.

“Welcome back, rectoress,” Coral said as she stepped aside, giving Tissaia enough room to take her rightful place at the head of the classroom.

The apprentices began to shift with excitement at the realization that she had returned. They had also apparently begun to slouch, Tissaia noticed. Certainly Coral was not quite as strict as she would have preferred. “Remember your posture,” she said sharply.

As the students quickly sat upright, she dipped her finger into the bowl of water and stirred it around. Out of habit, she attempted to use her magic to make the water rise from the bowl in order to give them a demonstration on how easy it was to manipulate. Once again, the effects of the dimeritium in her blood stream kept her magic from surfacing. She instantly felt a rush of dizziness come over her and had to grip the side of the table to steady herself. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Coral slip away into the corridor. Good, now she once again had the classroom to herself. Carefully, Tissaia leaned her cane against the table and began to explain the basics of hydromancy. Once she had talked about the similarities between stillness of mind and the beginnings of manipulating water, she held her hand over the bowl and called upon her inner magic. There was no reply for a few moments, so she forcefully tried harder, determined not to make a fool out of herself in front of the class. 

The effect was a wave of sickness that made her vault forward a bit, having to inhale quickly as her knees began to feel increasingly weak. Tissaia felt cold sweat bead on her forehead and swallowed thickly to stop the sick feeling creeping up her throat. She was well aware of the looks that she was getting from the apprentices, and she saw that the reflection of her face in the water was becoming increasingly pale. 

Just when she thought that the dimeritium had ceased bothering her, a sharp shock of pain went through her body, emanating from the place on her stomach where a shard of the dagger was still embedded within the muscle. A muted groan came out of her mouth as she grasped the table with both hands, otherwise she would have fallen. She shot a very sharp look into the classroom, grabbing her cane and stepping out from behind the table. All seemed to be fine, by the standards of the already difficult day. The apprentices seemed to be calming down, since their rectoress was the picture of restraint once again.

Or so it seemed, until the apprentice closest to her suddenly gasped. Tissaia met her with a raised eyebrow, even as the pain was rapidly becoming worse and she could feel sweat gathering on her neck. 

“R-rectoress!” the girl said shrilly. “You’re bleeding!”    
  


~~~

“Yennefer! Yennefer, wake up!” 

Coral banged on the door with her fist, hoping to rouse Yennefer from her sleep  _ before _ Tissaia did anything stupid. She had already tried to reach Yennefer telepathically, but the younger mage was smart enough to put a mental block into place before she went to sleep. 

At long last, there was a rustle of bedsheets inside the room, and Yennefer’s tired voice sounded: “What do you want?” 

“Put on some clothes and follow me,” Coral sharply replied. “Tissaia is trying to teach a class of pupils and you  _ have _ to drag her back to her chambers before anything dumb happens.”

“She is trying to do  _ what? _ ” Yennefer shouted from behind the heavy door. She dropped the bedsheets which were wrapped around her body and almost opened the door until she felt the cold air of her room splash against her skin and decided she shouldn’t rush into the hallway until she was decent.

“You heard me,” Coral shouted at her, “Tissaia is trying to teach and she is calling out for her magic! I can feel it every time she tries and I’m…” The Skelligan stopped short of what she was about to say. Usually she had no problem being honest and stating cold hard facts, but this time was different and she felt fearful. “Yen, I’m afraid she will fall and never get back up.”

Just as soon as Coral had finished her sentence, Yennefer swung open the door hastily. She had clearly confiscated the first set of wrinkled pants she had found from her closet, as well as a loose top which she was still in the process of buttoning as she began to utter an incantation.

_ “Don’t scare the apprentices,” _ the red haired woman pleaded.

A portal Yennefer was creating began to displace the air in the corridor, extinguishing all of the candles and torches just to take shape.

Yennefer pulled back on the magical strings which connected her current location to the position in which she desired to travel, a point directly in front of Tissaia. She stopped herself from rushing into the situation upon hearing Coral’s words.

No, Tissaia would not want anyone to be afraid, and suddenly materializing through a magically summoned portal in front of everyone  _ would  _ be frightening. As she shifted her entry point to a place just outside of the classroom, she recalled how comforting Tissaia had been to all of them during the battle at Sodden Hill. 

She needed to be just as comforting to those pupils as Tissaia had been, she resigned to herself as she stepped into the classroom through her own magically crafted doorway. She was met with a dozen sets of eyes once she had stumbled through.

Tissaia was behind her desk. Her hand clutched the edge of it so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Yennefer noticed her cane just next to her. She felt some type of frustrated chaos trying to emerge from the room. It was Tissaia trying to use her magic. Her concern grew as she observed the all too familiar color of crimson staining her dress. Trying to cover it up with her hand was useless as Yennefer saw right through her.

Fortunately for Yennefer, her entrance into the room had distracted everyone from the woman’s true injuries and she was able to use her own pipeline to magic to create a distraction. Telepathically, she created a sound similar to the dripping of water in a still pond. It was audible to everyone except Tissaia. 

It both distracted and soothed them.

Yennefer reached out to the water, pulling it from the bowls placed in front of each student for hydromancy study and then slipped around the desk to stop Tissaia from falling. She linked herself into the mind of each student and shaped the water into what it was they wanted to see the most. She cringed at the fact that she was being so manipulative but it wasn’t as if she was trying to harm the students. Staying connected to their minds, letting the water shape itself to their memories  _ and  _ winding an arm around Tissaia’s waist proved to be a bit much for Yennefer. She was barely able to concentrate on three taxing things at once as she led Tissaia towards the door. 

Coral made her way back into the center of the classroom and nodded towards Yennefer, knowing what it was she was trying to do. “Tonight, I want you to each take a bowl of water and look into it. I would like for you to try and recreate whatever it was you saw just yet.” The Skelligan said as she called out to Triss telepathically.

_ “I hope you are prepared for a headache, because there are two of them coming your way now.”  _

Carefully, Yennefer guided Tissaia from a room filled with impressionable eyes. As soon as she shut the door behind them, Tissaia collapsed. Her knees were only spared the feeling of hard stone against them as the raven haired sorceress caught her before she fell.

“What were you thinking? You couldn’t wait for us to remove the dimeritium before you tried to continue on with your life as if you aren’t sick? As if you aren’t  **_dying_ ** ?” Yennefer practically sobbed as she pulled Tissaia closer. She noticed how cold her skin felt and she began to worry.

“I couldn’t just lie there anymore,” Tissaia replied as she leaned into Yennefer’s neck. She was clutching at her bleeding abdomen with one arm as she felt her consciousness slipping, her other arm was loosely draped around Yennefer’s neck. Tissaia noted how warm she felt and how carefully she repositioned her as she extended her hand to cast a spell, uttering an incantation along the way. 

“It was just one more day,” Yennefer huffed as she opened a portal back to Tissaia’s quarters and shoved the cane back into her hand.

The older woman slumped against her as she walked through the portal and helped her back into bed. Triss was already there, waiting to get Tissaia back into the safety of her bed. She shook her head when she saw the blood on her dress.

Yennefer sank down into one of the armchairs near the hearth, looking on with great concern at how Triss helped Tissaia out of her dress, averting her eyes with a jerk of her neck. It wasn’t necessary, as Tissaia’s legs were covered and she wore an undershirt beneath her dress.

Triss was scolding her, telling her that she should ‘ _ under no circumstance’ _ walk again until all the dimeritium was removed and the wound on her thigh had healed fully. She continued to empathize with Tissaia by telling her that she knew how she felt, but that it was no reason to run the risks.

Which risks, she didn’t specify, but the elder mage’s pale, sweaty face and her high, pained groans told Yennefer enough.

_ The risk of death. _

She combed her hands through her hair in order to distract herself from that specific thought. It was a painful thought, that of losing Tissaia. 

As she glanced down at what she was wearing, Yennefer realized just how quickly she had responded to the situation. She was still dressed in a hastily thrown on shirt, a pair of crumpled breeches and barefoot. Nothing she would ever want to be seen in publicaly.

Triss walked by her to grab a book from Tissaia’s personal collection, handing it over to the sickly woman lying in bed while asking Yennefer to follow her outside, for they needed to make preparations, the healer whispered to her.

A word which made Yennefer cringe.  _ ‘Preparations.’ _

As the two women walked through the corridors, Triss began to talk quietly. “The fever has returned,” she said, her voice low. “And she’s bleeding again. I fear the potion has ceased working. I’m more than certain that she tried to access her magic and was denied.”

It was clear that she feared the worst, and Yennefer couldn’t let go of the thought that they might lose Tissaia before they could start with the removal. The herbs had been gathered, but making the extracts took time, especially with having to dry the vervain leaves. They were touchy and would crumble apart easily if not monitored and cured properly.

Sabrina had been drying them out as outlined by Triss, then steadily boiling and distilling the leaves for hours, trying to sleep in between the periods of refilling the small kettle with the purest spring water in order to avoid hard minerals from condensing in the base, and adding more dried leaves.

This concoction needed to be as clean as possible.

Meanwhile, Triss had been gathering the celandine’s bitter yellow sap. Grinding it carefully in her mortar and pestle, ignoring the acrid scent of its leaves and stem as she crushed the petals to draw out it’s essence.

All the while, they had allowed Yennefer to sleep. And how grateful the woman felt for her friends’ concern. 

When she voiced her indebtedness to Triss, the healer responded; “it’s nothing, Yen. After all, I’m sure you will take the night shift, overseeing the removal process as it’s in motion. You sat with her throughout that first night, holding vigil, while Sabrina and I thought she would perish, but you never gave up. Perhaps your duty is the most important of all.” 

“I suppose so,” was the only thing that Yennefer could utter. She wasn’t sure why, but her chest became tight at the thought of spending another night with Tissaia. Not even because what she thought she would see and experience, but because she knew nothing about the removal process and didn’t want to let her mind spin into all kinds of morbid thoughts. 

It was the fear of the unknown which haunted her, truly.

Rapidly, she forced those thoughts away and ignored the fact that her ears felt warm. She wanted to deny that it was because she had been fussing over Tissaia, but she couldn’t, and she  **_most certainly_ ** wasn’t blushing again when she averted her facial expression so Triss wouldn’t see it.

Even though she knew Triss did.

Over the period of just this last week, Yennefer had become much more observant to the smaller details. She had come to understand Tissaia and her boundaries, and she had come to understand her close friend Triss even better. Right now, her hair lacked any kind of luster and volume. It fell flat against her head and Yennefer knew what that meant.

She needed more help. 

“Let me assist you with the rest of the process,” she offered. “I can gather the things you’ll need for the compress.”

~~~

_ Under no circumstances _ should she walk, Triss had said. And yet, Tissaia was limping out of her bedchamber, a robe over her undershirt, tied with a sash around her waist, and her cane gripped tightly with a trembling hand. Even though she felt dizzy and weakened, she could no longer stay in the room with the three squabbling women. Batting away Sabrina’s helping hand with a sharp gesture of her cane, she told them to focus on their task, before opening the door to her study. 

Coral sat by the desk, looking up at the click of the door and pulling a face when she heard Triss say: “I  _ knew  _ we should have made it with fresh vervain, not dried leaves!” 

“It makes no difference, does it?” she asked Tissaia, who managed to stumble to one of the chairs by the small hearth to the right of the desk. Her injured leg started shaking just before she sank into the seat and sighed deeply. 

“No, it does not. Though Yennefer seems insistent on the fact that it does. They have been arguing about this for twenty minutes.” In vain, she tried to reposition herself so her leg would stop shaking. When the muscle finally seemed to relax, she put just a little too much weight onto it and very nearly uttered a sharp cry. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath to stifle her voice and when she opened them, she looked into Coral’s deeply concerned face. 

“You really shouldn’t be here,” the redhead said. “They’ll only bicker for half an hour more, then they should have the things ready for the removal.” There was a quiver in her voice that betrayed her anxiety about the matter. “But I know I can’t stop you from hobbling around when you want to. You know what might calm down your nerves, though?”    
  
With a sigh, Tissaia responded: “I’m not nervous, Astrid.” 

“No, and you’re certainly not fidgeting with your feet or trying to pluck threads out of the arm rest of your chair.” Coral grabbed a bottle from the corner of the desk. Instantly, Tissaia recognized the cherry cordial that had been used in the potion. As Coral strode over to the bookshelf and retrieved two glasses, she said: “I know you, Tiss. I know you very well. They’ll get over their bickering and realize that there’s no difference between making an extract from dried or fresh herbs soon enough.” 

She poured a measured amount in each one of the tall glasses. The pair that she had chosen had a particularly elegant shape, high with a small basin at the top. They were meant for official dinners, not for a drink between friends, but Tissaia was willing to let it slide, for once. One of the glasses had an image of Tor Lara etched into it with fine, white lines. The other one bore a similar image of Aretuza itself. The set had been one of the many gifts that Tissaia had received upon taking the position of rectoress. 

Apparently, Coral knew of their origin too, as was evident when she offered Tissaia the stem of one of the glasses and commented: “You still have these things.”    
  
“They look pretty on the shelf,” Tissaia said as she took the glass and looked into its contents, smelling the sweet scent of the cherry cordial when she brought the glass up to her face. “Too pretty to let them go to waste.” 

“ _ Hmm _ , true. It was probably the best thing that Ban Ard could have given you.” After placing the bottle on the table in front of the hearth, Coral took a seat next to Tissaia and reached for her own glass. She reached for the glass with an arm that wasn’t there. With a raise of her eyebrows and a suppressed sigh, she extended her left arm and lifted the glass to Tissaia. “To your recovery, then.” 

A soft clink of their glasses against one another followed. The sound lingered in the air for a few seconds, until Tissaia said: “To  _ our _ recovery.” She took a measured sip, appreciating the taste of one of the finest liquors in Aretuza’s collection. 

Thoughtfully, Coral hummed in agreement. She set her glass down and leaned back in her chair, casually slinging one leg over the other. “I don’t think we’ve been quite this sick and injured before, have we?” 

“Well, I spent a few days in the medical ward after the lightning disaster. It took a bit of time before the pattern that the bolt had etched into my back had healed.” Tissaia took another sip from her drink as she remembered those times with a distasteful expression. Every time a student of hers failed the test with the bottle and the lightning, it still seemed as if the scar on her back ached in sympathy. A reminder of her own failure, even though she had long ago chosen to get rid of it with her transformation. Not that she ever showed the pain from that memory, during those nights in the storm. “But you are correct, nothing as long and as painful as this.” 

“Can’t say I’ve ever lost a limb before,” Coral said with a crooked smile as she put her empty glass down on the table. “I had a very severe fever as a child, back in Skellige. My mother used to say she feared more for my life in those few days than she had ever done when I went sailing in the storm. But that was… so very long ago. Before my conduit moment, even.” She looked out of the window for a few moments, where the sun was setting and seemed to colour the gentle waves of the sea red. Then the smile returned to her face as she fixed her eyes on Tissaia. “Oh, but you  _ did _ have your odd hair condition.” 

“Which wasn’t an illness,” Tissaia immediately bit back. She was starting to regret sitting down for a drink with Coral, given how she loved to prod and poke at her old friend. Whether it was about her more serious failure in Tor Lara or this embarrassing little thing that had also happened in her student times. 

“No, it was you turning your hair pink with a transfiguration spell gone wrong. Took months before it had grown out though.” Making no attempt to hide her laughter, Coral didn’t even stop chuckling when Yennefer opened the door to the bedroom with more force than was necessary and stormed out of the study with heavy steps. “ _ Hmm, _ wonder what’s up with her now.” 

“The tail end of their bickering and fussing, hopefully,” Tissaia replied, much too quickly, focussing her gaze on the last drops of cherry cordial in her glass. Anything to avoid having to look at Yennefer’s face. How her eyebrows pinched together and how there was a slight blush dusting her cheeks. “I’m glad I scrapped the transfiguration class from the curriculum. That is definitely something I don’t regret doing.” 

“You have things you regret doing, then? I thought everything in your life had its purpose.” 

“We all have things we regret doing.” With a pointedly unamused look, Tissaia fixed her eyes on Coral’s and arched her eyebrows subtly. If Coral wished to continue this digging in the past, she was prepared to dish out some embarrassing stories about Coral in return. Though the moment that Coral’s eyes left hers in favour of staring blankly at the carpet, she knew she went a bit too far. “I am sorry,” she quietly said, something she rarely ever vocalized. “I wasn’t aiming to bring that up again.” 

“Oh, I know that.” The red haired mage brought her left hand up to the end of her right stump and softly cupped it, rubbing where a bandage still covered the healing wound, underneath her robe. A short yet sharp pain went through the remnant of her arm. Phantom ache of what was no longer there. “Don’t worry, Tiss. That mess was my fault, not yours.” 

And what a mess it had been. Between how she had acted towards Geralt of Rivia and how she had treated her assistant, there was nothing she regretted more in her life. She had been so immature, manipulative and most of all plain stupid. With a deep sigh, she looked at Tissaia again, noticing the worry in her eyes and trying for a smile. If anything, Tissaia shouldn’t be focusing on her missteps, but rather on how she herself felt. In Coral’s eyes, she was still much too pale and frail looking. 

“I supposed that nearly two decades of keeping to myself in Skellige, after that disaster… well, that ought to have matured me a bit. Funny how eighteen years in isolation did what the two centuries after my ascension couldn’t do,” she said while sitting back in her chair and unfolding her legs. “Until you started prodding at my wards ‘til I let you in. Then you invited me to fight at Sodden and here we are. Or… here is nearly all of me. And nearly all of you too, except a part of your sanity and reason, apparently. Otherwise you would have told Yen-” 

Instantly, Tissaia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “No more of that, Astrid,” she snapped. “Not now.” With a wince and a glare, she managed to shut Coral up all the way except for the smile on her mouth. “You should tell Yennefer about your… meeting, with the witcher.” 

Coral now pursed her lips and frowned. “When you are recovered and when this… whole situation has calmed down a bit. Then I’ll tell her. But it’s still quite a sore subject for her, I reckon.” 

As if on cue, Yennefer opened the door to the study again, carrying a carafe and several glasses on a tray in one hand, and a few books in the other. Tissaia released the breath she had sucked in to tell Coral that she’d heard Yennefer talk about how disappointing she found Geralt, on the eve before the battle. 

“We’re almost done,” Yennefer said. “In a few minutes, I’ll help you-” 

“I will walk there by myself, in a few minutes,” Tissaia replied pointedly. In response, Yennefer only rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. 

Meanwhile, Coral had stood up and began rummaging between the papers on the desk. The disarray irked Tissaia, but she was too tired to do anything but grumble at the temporary rectoress, saying that such a mess was unbefitting of her position. The Skelligen mage predictably paid no attention to it and soon fished out a paper from the stacks. “Thought you’d like to see this,” she said, holding it out for Tissaia to take with a shaking, pale hand. “There’s a group of craftsmen-sorcerers in Aedirn who specialize in magical prostheses and augmentations. I’ve sent them all the measurements they need and I hope to get a prototype tomorrow.” 

A little smile appeared on Tissaia’s lips as she scanned the parchment beneath her fingers. In the upper right corner, there was a detailed sketch of the entire prosthesis. It was quite the impressive sight, the meticulously drawn image of the bone-like structure from dark steel. A hardened leather covering protected what was left of Coral’s upper arm. Each finger was articulated perfectly. A harness-like construction was drawn on the left, meant to show how it stayed securely attached to Coral’s torso, with a strap around the right shoulder, connected to a pauldron of sorts. Then there was another leather strap, buckled on the chest and going underneath Coral’s left arm. 

“This looks good,” Tissaia said, honesty clear in her voice. She looked at the lower half of the drawings, where the joints of the hand and wrist were drawn in detail. Beneath them were three variations on the arm itself. The upper one had a slightly different bone structure. The one underneath was clearly meant for battle, with bladed extensions along the arm and spikes on the back of the hand. When she noticed that Tissaia was studying it, Coral started smiling like an excited child. 

“I like that one,” she clarified. 

Tissaia couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s rather brutish, all those blades.” 

Beneath the battle prosthetic was a final design. This one had lavish curls all along the bone structure and on the hand. Some were inspired by Skelligen symbols, others were inlaid with gold. It was clearly meant for official circumstances. On the lower left side of the paper were designs for leather coverings of the arm, so it looked far more realistic than when it only had the bone structure. These too had three designs, each with different symbols and markings. 

While handing the paper back to Coral, Tissaia nodded contently. “It looks like a worthy replacement. I’m looking forward to seeing it in motion.” 

“ _ Mhmm _ , so am I,” Coral said as she carefully put the scroll back on the desk. 

A comfortable silence rested in the room for a few moments. Tissaia was glad for the temporary distraction from the pain of her injuries, despite the fact that she still felt the fever pounding in her head. Ever since the potion had slowly stopped working, her symptoms had been getting worse and worse again. Suddenly, when there was no more talking between her and Coral, her thoughts began to curdle in her head again. A deeply seated fear arose in her chest as she realized that, if this cure didn’t work, the night that followed could very well be her last. 

“Tissaia,” came Yennefer's soft voice from the doorstep to the bedroom. It broke through the elder sorceress’ thoughts, blessedly. “We are…-” The younger mage took a deep breath and Tissaia saw her hand clench on the doorframe. “We’re ready.” 

~~~

“How long will this take?” Tissaia all but demanded from her bed as Triss carefully read over the notes she had written based off of the ancient scroll once again. She had been reciting the words to the spell she needed to start the process over and over, making certain she was using the correct pronunciation. Even though she practically had it memorized she still felt the need to read it again, just to be sure.

The healer allowed a few seconds to pass before she replied. “I’m uncertain how long it will take. This isn’t something I’ve done before and it may take some time. If we need to, we can take breaks or do multiple sessions.”

Tissaia frowned and made a disapproving sound as she shifted the bed sheets around. There was nothing she liked less than hearing someone tell her that they ‘didn’t know’ or ‘were uncertain’. That was not how she preferred things to work, especially when it came to the matters of her own health. “I hope this doesn’t turn out to be a waste of time.”

Sabrina, who had been quietly applying the bitter celandine sap and vervain leaf mixture to the compress, turned and glowered at Tissaia. “This isn’t going to be a waste of time and stop being snippy with everyone,  _ especially  _ with my wife.”

She returned to her task without a second glance but the silence in the room told her that the message had been received. The awkward quiet was soon broken as Yennefer entered from the bathroom, holding a bowl filled with sterile water and some wash rags. As she set the items down on the table next to Triss, who responded with a warm smile, she glanced around the room. Once her eyes landed on Tissaia, who looked away with a scowl, she felt relieved to have missed whatever drama had just occurred.

“Someone is still being fiesty, I see,” Yennefer hummed with a cocky grin as she pulled a chair closer to Tissaia’s bed and took a seat. She could hear Triss quietly reciting the spell to herself and the sounds Sabrina was making as she continued to prepare the compress. She almost felt guilty that they were doing all the work and now she was just sitting here and doing nothing. Though perhaps being a distraction to Tissaia was her contribution, if anything, so they could finish their preparation in peace without her snarky comments.

“I’m not being fiesty, piglet,” Tissaia said with a somewhat unusually subdued tone. “I just want to get on with this and see if it works.”

Yennefer watched as she shivered slightly then attempted to pull the blankets up higher, grimacing as she moved. A thin sheen of perspiration could be seen glistening on her forehead. 

“Don’t move, let me do that.” Yennefer rushed out of her chair and pulled the blankets up, feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re burning up.”

Triss looked up from her notes and gestured to a nearby tray with a decanter filled with water and some glasses. “Yennefer, can you give her some water? It sounds as if her fever is returning. We will need to keep her hydrated.”

Yennefer retrieved the water and carefully slid her hand under Tissaia’s neck to help her drink, being pleasantly surprised that there was no resistance. Perhaps she was too tired to fight with her or perhaps she was just thirsty. Either way, she would take it. A pained grin quickly appeared and then faded as she laid her back down.

“I have finished making the compress. Are you ready, Triss?” Sabrina inquired as she stood and carried it over to her. Each of them looked at it in awe as she placed it on the table. It looked like nothing special, just a simple oil and herb compress. The bright yellow of the celandine sap could be seen clearly through the light linen fabric she had wrapped around the actual compress to keep it from getting everywhere. It also smelled rather strongly of the bitterness of the sap, despite the pleasantly smelling vervain also being present.

Yennefer lowered her voice to a whisper. “This is it? This hardly looks like it would do anything at all let alone remove dimeritium from the bloodstream. This isn’t advanced alchemy.”

“No, that was the point of it. It was meant to be used in an emergency in times long past, it obviously isn’t going to be anything advanced. I have faith it will work. We don’t have another choice.” Triss held her hands above the compress and took a deep breath.

Tissaia nodded at her with a weary smile and, as if that were all the encouragement she needed, she began to recite the incantation. The words rolled smoothly off her tongue and she felt the magic begin to respond to her call. The herbs, as simple as they were, contained a great amount of passive power which she could feel through the spell. As she continued with the spell she felt those powers shift into something much more impressive. Her hands tingled as she repeated the words, taking great care to keep a smooth rhythm as she spoke. Her throat began to ache as the burn had still not fully healed. Sometimes it still pained her to talk but she didn’t allow that to stop her.

Slowly, she felt the tingling sensation turn into a feeling of coldness. It was as if she had held her hands under ice water for several minutes. Then, just as she began to stumble over a word, she felt them go completely numb. She practically fell into the chair, suddenly realising just how much channeling that spell had taken out of her as she felt the warm trickle of blood fall from her nose.

“Are you alright?” Sabrina rushed to her side with a rag in her hand and a look of concern in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Triss flashed an almost drunken smile. “It worked, I could feel it.”

The determined healer tried to stand and reach for the compress but was stopped as Sabrina gently held her down. “Careful, I don’t want you to drain yourself any further. I’m sure Yen can handle applying the compress. I’m taking you back to our quarters and you are going to rest.”

While being helped up by her wife, Triss shared a very serious look with Yennefer. “The compress should turn blackened, if it works. Please, don’t disturb it until morning. Or… unless something very serious happens, but then you  _ must _ reach out to me via telepathy. I’ll make some adjustments to my usual mental shields, so you can easily get through them. As for the rest… I suppose there’s nothing you can do but sit by her and wait.” 

Taking Yennefer’s hand between her own, Triss squeezed it tightly, then went in for a hug, holding onto Yennefer until her breathing had calmed. This was out of her hands, and the healer knew it. She seemed finally ready to accept that, as she let Sabrina gently lead her out of the door. As it shut behind her, Yennefer found herself unable to turn to the bed for a few moments. When she finally did find the will within herself, she was met with Tissaia’s eyes. The elder sorceress gave her a look that Yennefer couldn’t quite define or understand, and it was gone in an instant. 

Tissaia was lying comfortably on her back, two pillows under her head. She moved the blankets back to just above her waist, then folded back her undershirt to halfway up her ribcage, baring the entirety of her bandaged wound, but nothing else. Yennefer waited by the table upon which the compress laid, but Tissaia didn’t take off the bandage. Instead, she laid her arms down onto the mattress, resting them underneath the blankets, on her hip bones. 

After taking a deep breath to steady her hands, because the last thing she wanted was to cause Tissaia any more pain than she was already in, Yennefer carefully peeled the bandage off. The black veins still crawled underneath the inflamed skin, making her shudder in disgust. Right there was the metal that was slowly killing her mentor. Her mentor, her… friend? Her example? The woman she looked up to but had hated so intensely in the past? Yennefer couldn’t define her feelings anymore, so she simply gave up on it and dipped a rag into the sterilized water from a bowl on the nightstand. 

“I’m going to clean this first,” she softly said. As soon as she touched the edge of the wound with the cloth, she felt the muscle underneath the inflamed skin tense. Tissaia’s breath hitched in her throat and she closed her eyes as to not show too much of her pain. Yennefer felt the strong urge to apologize, but she didn’t, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation. 

Small beads of blood began to well up from the wound when she cleaned it, steadily staining the rag a rusty red colour. When she had cleaned the wound in its entirety, trying very hard not to cringe when Tissaia whimpered as she pressed too hard on the deepest part of it, where the jagged, chipped edge of the dagger had frayed the muscle, Yennefer retrieved the compress from the table, carefully holding it by the edges of the cloth so she wouldn’t get the stinking yellow sap on her hands. She felt the magic within it, hope welling up in her chest. 

She sat down on the bed, placing the compress where the bandage had been with utter care. Tissaia still tensed when it hit her skin. “It’s cold,” she murmured. 

“Do you feel anything else?” Yennefer asked her, covering her back up with her undershirt and the blanket. She was anxious to know if it worked. 

Tissaia was quiet for a few seconds, frowning and closing her eyes. Then a soft, pained  _ ah _ escaped her mouth. Immediately, Yennefer’s eyes widened in alarm. 

“It’s…  _ ah _ \- hard to describe,” Tissaia said, hissing between her teeth. “I can feel it pulling at the dimeritium… at my very blood and flesh. It’s a kind of prickling pain, like you’ve stepped in a stinging nettle. Not very severe, just -  _ ow _ \- very uncomfortable.” 

The strange look in Tissaia’s eyes had returned. Yennefer slowly stood up and summoned one of the armchairs in the room to the bedside, sitting down as she looked at the woman in the bed. It was going to be a long night, she could already ascertain that. While she wanted to help Tissaia further, she realized that there was nothing she could do but be by her side and provide additional aid and perhaps even… comfort, when the moment would arise. That thought alone made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t wish to define. 

Still, Tissaia was looking at her, with that odd emotion in her eyes. It took a few more seconds, in which their eyes continuously met, before Yennefer was finally able to define it. 

Tissaia was afraid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re eluding to a lot of backstory in Coral and Tissaia’s conversation. If this chapter wasn’t so focused on the removal, we’d have written it out more ;)   
> But for now it’s just a teaser of what we’ll likely explore further in other chapters or in a possible sequel to this fic. We simply had to acknowledge Coral’s questionable choices that are written out in the books but not present in the series. And the “nearly two decades of isolation in Skellige” is our take on why and how she suddenly vanished, before turning up at Sodden. 
> 
> This chapter once again was supposed to be much longer, but we scrapped 1/4 of it to prevent it from becoming longer than 15k words. You'll see another update fairly soon, since both of us are stuck at home until this virus has gone away. 
> 
> p.s. you didn't think we'd forget about Vilgefortz, did you?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a long-ass chapter because apparently we couldn't split this one into two. 
> 
> Finally, they say what they've been thinking for the previous 4 chapters. Aretuza is also on fire, Fringilla says hi, Vilgefortz reappears.
> 
> CHAPTER 3 HAS SOUNDTRACK NOW  
> I (braz) swear I'll slowly catch up with the soundtracks ^^

The book that Yennefer had picked up from the library, on the forbidden kinds of magic that Nilfgaard used, was barely interesting to her. It had seemed like a good idea to start reading up on their enemy’s weaponry, but she found it hard to concentrate. The reason for this was most likely the fact that Tissaia laid so eerily still in the bed. She couldn’t possibly be asleep, given that the prickling pain of the dimeritium removal made it impossible for sleep to set in. Yet she wasn’t reacting either, and the only sounds in the room were her slow breathing and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. 

A fire which continued to call to Yennefer, which was a feeling that hadn’t left her since Sodden. It unnerved her, but she most often had her mind on other things. Still, she felt the rhythm of the flames like the beating of a heart. She desperately needed a distraction from it. 

“Tissaia, what are you doing?” she inquired. “I know you’re not asleep.” 

The elder mage didn’t even bother to open her eyes as she answered. “I am meditating, piglet. You should consider it too, instead of shuffling around in your chair.” 

Yennefer let out an irritated sigh.  _ Meditating _ , she thought with a measured amount of disgust. One of the numerous things that Tissaia had tried to teach her, and something she never did. She was certain that she could recite Tissaia’s instructions to the students about calming the mind and regulating the breathing, thus the flow of chaos within the body, from memory. “Well,  _ I _ am reading about the kinds of magic that Nilfgaard uses.” 

“Then how does one reach past the limits of regular pyromancy to link their life-force to feeding the flames?” Once more, Tissaia didn’t open her eyes, just casually asking a question as if she was constructing an exam. 

“I don’t know that, Tissaia. The book only talks about how dangerous it is.” 

“Naturally. You won’t find that knowledge in a book.” With that, the conversation seemed to be over, since Tissaia sighed deeply and winced before folding her hands just below the wound on her stomach. 

Yennefer studied her face for a few moments. She looked intently at the delicate arch of her nose, her hair that laid free on the pillow, for once not in a tight knot on the back of her head. She paid extra attention to the pale side of her throat and the way her collarbones were just visible from beneath the nightgown. There was far too much definition of the bones underneath her skin. Yennefer was glad that she could look at Tissaia undisturbed, for once. Then the rectoress’ eyes opened. She knew. She knew, and Yennefer quickly looked at the book on her lap again. Mercifully, Tissaia didn’t say anything. 

Nearly two hours passed, only marked by how the logs in the fire slowly burned up and how the last footsteps faded from the corridors. Tissaia didn’t keep a clock in her bedroom, but her many decades of routine must have set her biological one very well. 

Eventually, Yennefer closed the book and laid it on the table near the hearth, standing up and walking through the room to stretch her tired legs. What she hadn’t seen, is that Tissaia had opened her eyes and was watching her intently. 

The fire cut sharp shadows over Yennefer’s face, Tissaia noticed. It made her eyes stand out more than they already did. She looked at the delicate curves of her dark eyebrows and the shine of her hair in the low light. Coral’s words from a few days before rung in her ears.  _ ‘Vengerberg lit the fire, didn’t she?’  _

Yes, Yennefer had stoked something in Tissaia that she thought she could forget. After decades of endless teaching, not a partner in sight or in mind. And now she didn’t know what to do with it. If she let her reason speak, Tissaia thought to know just how little interest Yennefer  _ should  _ have in a romance now, given what she had heard from the woman just before the battle.  _ ‘Disappointing’  _ was how she had found her latest lover. And Tissaia had tried to cheer her up over a mug of ale, knowing that Yennefer couldn’t possibly go to battle with such a mindset. It had worked, only to stir up all kinds of feelings that Tissaia hadn’t had in a solid century.

Even those feelings, as intense as they were at the time, seemed muted in comparison to this. 

As she looked at how Yennefer stretched her arms, aching from being in the same position for so long while she had been reading, she noticed the definition of her shoulder and upper arm muscles against the dark blue linen shirt that she wore. She saw the drawstrings of her black breeches and quickly averted her eyes, lest that shirt ride up any higher. As Yennefer finished stretching and walked towards Tissaia again, much more relaxed than before, the older mage wondered how similar they felt at that moment. 

Their eyes met briefly. 

Yennefer felt a smile creep up on her face. The cure was working. Tissaia’s condition didn’t seem to be declining any further. She was saved, Nilfgaard hadn’t taken the rectoress. The smile developed into a teasing grin, and she already felt a smug comment on the back of her tongue. Something about how they couldn’t put her down and how the continent was stuck with her after all. It all vanished from her mind in an instant when a guttural groan forced its way out of Tissaia’s mouth. 

Dropping down onto the mattress in a split second, Yennefer’s eyes widened in panic as Tissaia suddenly cramped, seizing underneath the blankets. She tossed back and forth as the veins in her neck began to protrude, an indication of just how much distress she was in.

“Tissaia!” Yennefer felt the fear of losing her returning and quickly reached for a hand which thrashed about on the bed.

_ Is she going to die? _

Tissaia cried out. It was such an undignified sound, but she herself couldn’t bother to care as she felt the burning sensation of the loose shard which had been causing her so many problems as of late, moving through her body. It cut through deep layers of muscle and tissue as it was pulled towards the compress and she hoped more than anything that it hadn’t been lodged in, or near her intestines, for that would bring about  _ yet another _ serious set of problems. The risk of a critical infection.

She balled up her fist and slammed it onto the mattress as the pain kept her cognizant of the fact that she was in no manner finished with her recovery. In fact, this was hardly even the beginning of it, she realized as she opened her eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of Yennefer’s concerned look. Her lips mouthed words that she could not hear over her own agony and she found herself falling back into pillows which greeted her with not a single ounce of comfort.

She watched though eyes stained with tears as Yennefer slid her hand towards her.

The dimeritium had blocked her telepathic ability to call out for Triss, Coral, Sabrina or even Yennefer, whom she now found herself reaching out for, hoping to find some sort of comfort throughout all the pain.

Clenching her teeth so hard that she thought they would break, Tissaia grasped at the hand which was offered to her and held onto it tightly.

Yennefer almost wanted to retract her delicate appendages, as the older woman was much stronger than she thought possible from a person of her stature. She bit her lip and stifled back a cry as Tissaia began to crush both her fingers and the bones of her palm together.

Her first instincts were to call out for Triss, _but_ she had recalled an idle conversation she had with the healer telepathically as she was reading that _extremely_ dry book on Nilfgaardian spellcasting, all the while watching over Tissaia.

_ ‘What do I do if she starts to...I don’t know, become distressed?’ _

_ ‘Is she moving about now? What is she doing?’ _ The cautious healer had replied with a tone of worry laced with tiredness in her voice.

_ ‘No, she’s sleeping. Well, she is pretending to sleep.’  _ Yennefer had explained to Triss as she studied every curve of Tissaia’s resting form.

She’d heard Sabrina’s distinct cackle just before Triss responded. It was as if whatever it was she said directly to Triss, Sabrina heard as well, and she had found it endearing that the two of them were connected in such a way.

_ ‘The potion did stabilize her quite a bit, even after her latest stunt,’ Triss replied. ‘If she appears to be in pain, just  _ **_be there_ ** _ for her. If she stops breathing, or her heart stops beating, let me know  _ **_immediately_ ** _.’ _

Yennefer recalled the way her heart froze at hearing those words, yet it was nothing like seeing Tissaia in her current state of torment. She found herself being dragged from the memory of Triss’ instruction, ready to put her lesson to application.

“Tissaia,  **_I’m here._ ** Come back to me.” She pleaded as she found her voice and tried to encourage the other woman to release her hand from what felt like a death grip.

The rectoress found her eyes flitting about the room as the shard finally crested the surface of her skin. She felt warm blood spill down her sides as it oozed from the wound, she did not hate the feeling. It was a relief, to finally be rid of something she had been carrying with her since she had first been injured. She reached under the compress and searched for the offending shard.

She turned her head as she coughed, then she ran her fingers along the back of Yennefer’s hand, tracing along her knuckles and savoring the way it felt as she fought against a darkness which was telling her to rest. Pressing the piece of dimeritium into the younger woman’s hand, she felt her eyes close and the feeling of clean linen flush against her skin. “Keep this. I want to show it to the students.”

Yennefer held the metal in one hand and applied pressure to Tissaia’s bleeding wound with the other until it had stopped. She ignored responding to the slightly morbid request but placed the shard on the table next to her as she steadied her breathing. Even just holding the element in her hand for that short amount of time caused it to go numb, the feeling having crept up into her forearms already. She could hardly imagine what Tissaia had gone through.

Her hair fell into her eyes as she moved the compress back into place. It hadn’t darkened all the way from absorption so she knew it was still viable. She sat and carefully took note of Tissaia’s breathing and watched her pulse as it pounded in her throat. 

Once she felt assured that the rectoress was no longer in danger and was resting comfortably, she slipped out into the corridor and leaned against the wall, clutching her face in her hands and trying to deny the feelings which she had been ignoring since Sodden. 

The flames from the torches in the hall began to gravitate towards her inquisitively, and then she heard a voice.

_ “It’s not too late. You can still join us and have that power you have been searching for all your life.” _

Yennefer looked up, quickly scanning the empty halls of Aretuza as she prepared a defensive spell, but there was no one in sight. She recognized this voice, for she had heard it during the battle of Sodden and in the haunting moments after the castle had been set aflame. She had heard it throughout her studies at Aretuza.

_ Fringilla. _

“Get out of my head,” Yennefer grated, speaking aloud into the empty hallway. She knew that she had been irresponsibly sloppy with her mental defenses, but she blamed the late hour and her general state of tiredness. All she wanted now was to block Fringilla out of her thoughts and go back to Tissaia. She cursed at herself as she thought of her injured mentor lying in the bed, knowing she had given away too much. 

_ “Tissaia?”  _ Fringilla inquired, with mock gentleness in her voice. She was resisting Yennefer’s attempts to remove her unwanted intrusion, and Yennefer could barely keep her thoughts focused on it for long enough, since they flitted back to the rectoress time and time again. 

_ “So she lives.”  _ There was a flicker of surprise in Fringilla’s voice, but she had gotten very good at concealing it.

“Disappointed? I thought you knew how strong she is.” Though Yennefer didn’t want to see it, the image of Tissaia, clutching her hand so hard that it hurt, crying out in pain, was brought to the forefront of her mind. She had never heard the rectoress make such a sound and even the memory made her feel sick. Yennefer didn’t know just how much of that was Fringilla’s doing, but she snapped at her anyway. “Stop that! You won’t get any further with this shit.”

_ “Can you not see what a burden she is?” _ Fringilla inquired with a soft cadence before continuing to prod her.  _ “Do you not wish to be free of her? To be released from this cycle of worry and be able to focus on your own lofty ambitions once again?” _

Yennefer gasped and swayed on her feet, seeking support by the wall and bringing a hand up to her forehead. Fringilla was trying to dig through her mind, and as strong as she was, Yennefer could barely stave off the assault. Memories of the last week quickly began to replay in her head, as the Nilfgaardian mage sifted through them. The all-consuming fire in the Battle of Sodden, Tissaia falling in her arms as the arrow hit her thigh, the cold stones of Aretuza as she stumbled through the portal. 

_ “Yennefer.”  _ Fringilla’s voice echoed through it all. 

Tissaia was lying bloodless in the medical ward, her form pale and seemingly devoid of all life. Triss stressed about by her bedside, and Yennefer felt so utterly helpless, not being able to assist her. 

_ “Can you not see?”  _

“Fuck off,” Yennefer breathed, bringing a hand to her temple and squeezing her eyes shut, pushing against Fringilla’s presence in her mind, searching for a way to break the telepathy. 

Blood splattered over Tissaia’s chin as she hacked, her body convulsing in an attempt to get it out of her lungs. Yennefer’s concern flared in her chest as she held a rag up to her mouth. She sat next to her bed and was so powerless, as all she could do was wait. 

_ “She limits you, Yennefer.”  _

_ ‘Forget the bottle,’  _ Tissaia whispered. Her voice was marred with pain and there were tears in her eyes. Resting her forehead against Yennefer, she slowly went limp as she leaned on the younger mage. Then she was lifting a mug of ale at Yennefer and smiling, her blue eyes bright in their nightly surroundings. She was laughing now, and Yennefer too. They laughed together, as they looked upon each other’s grins and sat so close to each other that Yennefer could feel Tissaia’s warmth where their shoulders touched ever so slightly. A dreamy sigh bubbled up in Yennefer’s chest and she very nearly let go of it. But she stopped, not knowing where Tissaia’s boundaries lay. 

_ “She is but a restriction.”  _ Fringilla’s voice cut through the memory like a cold steel blade.  _ “In Nilfgaard, there are no restrictions. You could be powerful beyond imagination.”  _

Tissaia’s skin was still warm under Yennefer’s hands as she cleaned the deep wound in her thigh. But her form was so pale and so small. She looked so frail, as if a gust of wind could blow her away, extinguishing all life left in her. Triss’ eyes had lost all their hope, Sabrina was exhausted, Coral was staring blankly at the ceiling, her face a mask of death. 

Yennefer felt her knees weaken and leaned fully against the wall, gritting her teeth as she tried to sever the telepathic connection. She felt its threads unwinding one by one as she forced Fringilla bit by bit out of her head. Her breath heaved with the effort, and she was fairly certain that she was groaning from the sheer difficulty of it. Then she felt something snap, a flash of cold at the base of her skull. Finally, it was silent in her head. 

She sank to the floor in exhaustion. The cold stone was soothing underneath her hands as she rested her back against the wall and filled her lungs with big gulps of air. 

Then her vision blurred. 

_ “You need not be tethered to this place, Yennefer,” _ Fringilla said softly. Her voice was trying to lure Yennefer into a false sense of safety, so convincing did it sound. _ “There is nothing for you to gain in Aretuza, with her. Come to me, to Nilfgaard. We have unlimited possibilities. Is that not what you want?”  _

“No,” Yennefer whispered hoarsely, but her voice was starting to lose its power. 

_ “Yes… Yennefer, come to us. It is time to let her go.”  _

From the recesses of Yennefer’s mind, Fringilla molded an image. She wrenched memories up from the depths of them, mashing them together and creating something that made the heart of the sorceress from Vengerberg stop in her chest. 

Tissaia laid on an altar of stone, as dozens of mages slowly walked around her in a procession. Her eyes were closed and her skin was white as fresh snow. She wore a black dress that hid her wounds, and her arms were folded across her chest. Yennefer reached for her, but only felt the deathly cold of her skin when their hands touched. Tissaia wasn’t moving anymore. 

Tears welled up in Yennefer’s eyes as she scrambled to her feet and banned the image from her mind. 

“No!” she shrieked, voice cracking as she stumbled to her feet. “ _ No! _ Get out of my head!”

Suddenly, she found herself standing in a forest. The sound of distant explosions and screaming resonated in the background. There was a dense fog which blanked the trees and her lungs filled with the scent of wet leaves.

Tissaia was standing in front of her, uninjured.

Yennefer tried to rush towards her but found that her feet were anchored in place. Still, the sight of Tissaia standing strong did something to her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, and found a different voice falling from her lips alongside a set of words which were foreign to her. “I did tell you to stay out of this.”

“You can come back,” Tissaia said as she stiffened her posture. “I can help you.”

Yennefer realized what it was she was about to watch unfold from what appeared to be the vantage point of Fringilla and she had never been so angry. She fought against the connection Fringilla had established, but it was futile for it was like a heavy anchor lodged deep within her mind.

“Do you know how Nilfgaard took Cintra?” she asked, completely disregarding Tissaia’s offer and standing taller herself. “Horrible storm. Fifty Skelligen ships sunk to the bottom of the sea, wrecked in that horrible fog.”

“That was you." Tissaia responded plainly as she stepped forward, a fist clenched tightly, continuing to talk even as Fringilla turned and started to walk away. “I won't let you do this. You're worth more than Nilfgaard can ever give you.”

Yennefer felt Tissaia grab at her arm through Fringilla’s point of view as she turned from her, a gloved hand brushing against her shoulder. The desperate tone in Tissaia’s voice when she called out to her, “Fringilla, wait,” told her just how much she was trying to bring her back into the fold.

She wanted to warn her of the impending danger she was in, but was unable to even so much as whisper. Her mind fought to push Fringilla out as she did not want to see what it was that happened next. While she finally began to sever the connection, it was not soon enough and she was forced to watch the scene play out right before her eyes. She watched the blood spill from the wound as Fringilla slashed upwards and across her abdomen with the dagger. She felt a slight resistance as the brittle blade chipped and dragged the now jagged edge across the flesh. She heard a sharp cry as Tissaia fell to her knees, clutching the wound while trying to cast a healing spell.

“Dimeritium,” the other sorceress said as she wiped the blood from the dagger then threw the sullied rag on the ground in front of Tissaia as if she meant nothing. “I don’t need your help anymore, rectoress.”

Yennefer tumbled forward, having finally broken off the connection Fringilla had established. She caught herself with her hands just before her face collided with the stone floor of Aretuza. Her forehead was completely drenched in sweat and her body shook as she tried to determine if she was actually in reality or if this was just another one of Fringilla’s games. Quickly she uttered a spell and layered ward after ward around her mind, determined not to allow such an intrusion to occur like that ever again.

Leaning against the wall of the cold stone corridor was sobering and as she caught her breath her thoughts turned to Tissaia. Her attempt to end the battle of Sodden by convincing Fringilla to come back to her had almost cost her everything. This was something Yennefer had already known, but to be forced to watch it was an entirely different thing.

Finally convinced that Fringilla no longer had access to her mind, and that her own mental wards were holding enough to keep her out, she shoved herself up off the ground and made her way back into Tissaia’s chambers.

“Is something the matter, piglet?” Tissaia asked as Yennefer closed the door as quietly as she could. Her brow was arched slightly and her voice sounded very gentle. It was a different kind of gentle than Fringilla’s temptations, but it struck a nerve with Yennefer all the same. 

She was met with a weak smile as she sank back down into her chair and picked up the Nilfgaardian book again, trying to hide the fact that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

Suddenly it seemed as if the air in the room turned heavy. Yennefer felt as if it had started to choke her, when she looked at how Tissaia had folded her hands on her stomach again, her head small in the sea of her pillows. Flashes of the nightmarish illusion magic of just yet went through Yennefer’s mind. It wasn’t real.  _ It wasn’t real.  _

She stumbled back, opening the door and taking a deep breath to force out a sentence without the trembling of her voice giving her distress away. Tissaia had enough troubles already. “I - I just need some fresh air,” she blurted out, unable to remain in the room with the rectoress for much longer. “I’m going to go to the tower, but I… I won’t be long.” 

With those words, she fled the bedchamber. 

~~~

The door slammed behind Yennefer, causing the flames in the hearth to flicker. Perhaps the hours of sitting around with nothing to do but staring at a sick person had gotten to her, Tissaia mused. It was all that Yennefer had been doing for days, and it was bound to grate her nerves eventually. 

Yet something told her that it wasn’t the monotonous nights that had caused her such distress. There had been a panicked look in Yennefer’s eyes that Tissaia hadn’t often seen. It concerned her, more than she wanted to admit. But there was nothing she could do until the younger sorceress returned. However, she wasn’t allowed much time to think about it.

There was an odd sensation at the back of her skull, as someone effortlessly linked their mind into hers. The dimeritium had disabled all her usual mental shields, and soon, a voice reverberated through Tissaia’s mind. 

_ “Rectoress.”  _

Although the intrusion was sudden, she held her position and did not flinch. In fact, she almost felt as if she were allowing it, even though normally it wouldn’t be something she would tolerate. This was something she had been expecting and was most likely the cause of Yennefer’s sudden departure, though it was hard to be certain of that.

“Hello Fringilla.” She said aloud.

_ “I see you are still clinging onto this existence. That  _ **_must_ ** _ be tiring. Wouldn’t it feel nice to rest for once in your life?” _ Fringilla’s voice was soothing beyond belief, but she wasn’t about to let a few tempting words get to her.

“I have rested long enough.” She kept her answer short and guarded, for she knew the dangers of allowing a sorceress powerful enough to have mastered mental manipulation spells access to anything more than superficial responses. Not until she was stronger.

_ “Have you, though? Once you are healed it will be the same thing again, day in and day out. The weight of responsibility which you shoulder, the burden of all of this. Teaching and training each and every pupil, molding them to the will of the Chapter. Even I know how heavy that pendant must feel against your chest.” _ Fringilla continued to push.

“No, you don’t know how heavy it feels,  **_nor will you ever._ ** ” She closed her eyes and drew in a steady breath as she casually folded her hands across the compress, relishing the tingling sensation which had formerly felt like such an annoyance. It had been pulling the dimeritium out of her body particle by particle ever since Triss had evoked the power within these two simple herbs. It was ancient elven magic working as it was intended and she made a mental note to work with Triss in the future to study it further and write this all down so it wasn’t lost to the ages.

_ “But I do, for even you told me what it felt like when Rectoress de Winter passed the pendant along to you. Perhaps it is time for you to think about passing it along to someone else permanently. Yennefer seems like a good candidate, she is good at getting what she wants… isn’t she?”  _ Fringilla took the opportunity to remind her of how her post at Aedirn had been stolen from her.

“It doesn’t matter, for that is all in the past.” Tissaia remained calm as she felt Fringilla shift her magic, knowing she wasn’t going to give up, nor was Tissaia going to turn against Yennefer.

She felt a stirring just beneath the barrier which the dimeritium had so carefully crafted. Her access to magic was slowly returning and she knew that soon enough she would be able to force Fringilla out of her mind. First, however, she would allow her to think she was winning.

An image began to form, and she found herself in one of Fringilla’s memories. They were watching from the vantage point of a mind worm, crawling up Sabrina’s leg and climbing into her ear. Once there, she could see through the blonde sorceress’ eyes as Fringilla commanded Sabrina to commit atrocities against them. She forced her to watch as she plunged an arrowhead into Yennefer’s flesh, her violet eyes pleading and she was unable to cast a single harmful spell against her. Fringilla found a surprising amount of strength in Sabrina’s body, far greater than she expected from a woman of her stature. She was determined to use every ounce of it to drive the arrow into Yennefer’s eye. Fortunately for her, the blast from the courtyard below knocked them both from the tower and dislodged the worm.

“You think showing me these things will rattle my cage, young sorceress?” Tissaia said as she peered underneath the blankets and gently lifted the compress, noting just how dark it had become.

For the first time in a long while, she could feel her access to magic once again, slumbering underneath the veil of the dimeritium. It wasn’t everything but it was something. It was enough to defend herself against Fringilla’s assault and just enough to fight back a bit. Slowly but surely, Tissaia began to reach for her powers, feeling the darkness of the poison give way to the fresh, raw chaos that laid in every mage’s core. Her fingertips began to tingle with the sparks of her returning magic. 

She could feel Fringilla moving about in her mind, trying to find other painful memories which she could use against her. Tissaia only stiffened her posture as she allowed her access to only one thing.

What she saw when Yennefer burned the entire Nilfgaardian army to the ground.

Fringilla’s sudden attempt at retraction from her mind told her that she had found the correct counter. Instead of letting her slither away to the comforts of Nilfgaard, she lashed out at her with her magic and wound her powers tightly around the retreating mage. She pulled her back into her mind.

“No, Fringilla. I want you to see a few things as well,” Tissaia said as she opened her eyes and stared at the cold brick above her bed. Fringilla said nothing and yet confessed everything as she fought against her steely grip.

Tissaia smirked as she felt her strength returning and knew that her former pupil had underestimated her weakness.

“I want you to see just how much more powerful Yennefer is than you. How much more she has learned.” She continued to speak audibly, knowing Fringilla could still hear her.

_ “Nilfgaard… is.” _ Fringilla staggered.

“Nilfgaard is  **_nothing_ ** more than an empire that has grown too large for its own boots,” Tissaia said as she filled Fringilla’s mind with nothing but the memory of Yennefer’s chaos.

Suddenly, she felt the connection disappear.

Tissaia smiled to herself for just a moment before she closed her eyes and strengthened her own mental wards. It was the first time she had been able to access any type of magic and the feeling was exhilarating.

There was another feeling which lingered as well. She had flaunted Yennefer’s talents to Fringilla as she tried to attack her mind. She had never felt so proud of anyone else before. There might have been a time in the past where she would have denied what those feelings meant. Just yesterday, perhaps.

Today she knew what those feelings were, but tomorrow could she tell her? She did not know, she thought to herself contentedly as she leaned back against several pillows and shut her eyes. Even just the slightest bit of her magic had been more than enough to rise up against her enemy, _ their _ enemy. 

A few moments later, Yennefer came in. Her hair was tousled by the wind and even from such a distance away, Tissaia could see the torment on her face and the tears in her eyes. Evidently, she had fared far worse against Fringilla’s mental assault. Tissaia wondered what she had been shown, but knew that Yennefer was far too stubborn to reveal any of it. That had always been her nature. 

Yennefer’s voice was slightly raspy when she spoke up. “It’s early morning. I saw the dawn a few moments ago.” 

Sunrise at Aretuza was beautiful, as the sun slowly spread over the sea and coloured the water various shades of red, pink and purple. That beauty seemed lost to Yennefer, however, as she sank down in the chair with an exhausted sigh. 

“You should sleep, piglet. Triss is bound to be up soon, and I know that the first thing she will do in the morning is to see how I’m faring.” Tissaia felt worry creep up in her stomach as Yennefer didn’t even look at her while she spoke. This little stunt from Fringilla shouldn’t be enough to upset her. Yet it had, and that made Tissaia wonder what else was hampering Yennefer so. “Soon, Aretuza will be alive with the kitchen staff and some poor girls who Coral dragged out of their beds to help her with setting up the lessons. I’m sure you don’t want them to see you in such a tired state.” 

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll go,” Yennefer said as she listlessly stood up, stumbling over her own feet in exhaustion. With a heavy heart, Tissaia watched her walk out of the room, her shoulders were slumped and she was rubbing her brow with a hand. 

Then she took a deep breath, feeling for her magic once again. The dimeritium responded with a sharp shock of pain, but it was nowhere near as bad as the agony she had been living with for days. In fact, she was able to push past it, though she did feel more than a little bit sick in the stomach. ‘ _ Triss, are you awake?’  _ she asked telepathically, reaching out to the healer’s mind. 

The gasp and the elated cry she heard in return were enough to make her smile. 

_ ‘Tissaia! Y-yes, I’m up. I’ll come to your chambers as soon as I can. And stay in bed until I’m there.’ _

~~~

Triss frowned as she lifted the compress from Tissaia’s body. She wore heavy leather gloves, so she wouldn’t have to come into contact with any trace of dimeritium. Thanks to the gauze on the underside, it hadn’t stuck to her skin. Tissaia felt unpleasantly exposed when Triss removed it, despite the fact that the healer’s eyes were kind and Yennefer’s sharp gaze was nowhere to be seen. She hoped that the woman was sleeping. 

“Sorry to be the bringer of bad news,” Triss said as she laid the compress onto a metal tray, which laid on the nightstand. “You see, there… there, eh-” 

“Out with it, Triss. I am tired and I want to rest,” Tissaia sharply interrupted as Triss seemed to have trouble finding the most soothing way to say whatever it was that she had on her mind. It was a nice characteristic for a healer, but Tissaia was in no mood to listen to it. 

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, Triss took a deep breath before quickly saying: “There’s still dimeritium in your body.” Once the hard part of the sentence was out, and Tissaia wasn’t reacting with anything more than a raised eyebrow, she seemed to calm down a bit. “The cure that we found was likely for small amounts of contamination, things that could happen during the forging process. Look at your wound. Do you see the veins?” 

Tissaia peered at her injury with tired eyes. Indeed, there was still evidence of dimeritium in it. The black veins that had previously wrapped around her entire torso had receded substantially, but they still spread around the wound. Their range had shrunk to a handwidth, and Tissaia nodded tiredly at Triss. “Yes, I understand. Will it take another night, then?” 

“I fear so. I cannot apply another compress now. Not because I don’t have the materials, there’s just a risk of straining you too much.” A worried frown that Tissaia knew all too well spread over Triss’ kind face. 

The younger mage handed Tissaia a bowl with warm porridge. It smelled sweetly of honey and butter and was bound to be a hearty breakfast. Tissaia had to admit that she knew very well what she was doing. Her mouth twitched with a smile as she hoisted herself upright, sternly looking at Triss’ helping hands until the mage let her prop her weakened body against the pillows by herself. It went a lot easier than she had expected, and relief flooded her body at the thought that this pain and suffering would finally come to an end, after one more night. 

“I will let you eat and rest now. Your condition has improved enough for me not to have to do a checkup every few hours. The fever has lessened substantially and the inflammation seems to be fading as well.” A brittle smile appeared on Triss’ lips as she picked up the tray and made her way to the door. “Dare I say that we’ve finally figured out how to rid you of this horrible poison?” 

“Indeed you have,” Tissaia said as she held the pleasantly warm bowl in her hands. Hands that weren’t shaking anymore. “You and your wife should get to writing down the procedure in detail. I am sure that Nilfgaard has more of it.” 

Now Triss’ smile turned into a fully fledged chuckle as she looked upon her mentor, her brown eyes meeting Tissaia’s icy blue. “I see that even a near death experience can’t change you,” she said, laughing. 

~~~

Coral gazed at the sturdy oak box on Tissaia’s desk with a gleam in her eye and a smirk on her face. It had arrived far more quickly than she thought possible and she could hardly wait to open it. She traced her fingers along the crest of the Kingdom of Aedirn which was painted on the top of the box. It was a red and gold chevron sitting atop a shield of black.

Yennefer had suggested using magic to open the box but Coral wanted to feel like she earned it, so they waited anxiously as Sabrina retrieved a metal pry bar from the blacksmith.

“Did you get the one with the spikes?” Yennefer asked with an amused look. It elicited a chuckle from Triss, as they both knew it was something Coral would in fact wear daily if she could.

The red haired woman huffed. “Ever since Sodden, the battle-grade black steel used for that arm has been in short supply and people have been hoarding it, so I’m told. Else I would be pulling it from that box as soon as your lady returns with the pry.”

“And you will be able to cast with it, and move it with your magic?” Triss inquired.

Nodding her head, Coral thumbed at the nails which tightly sealed the box shut and began to rethink not using magic to pull the nails from the wood. She remained patient, however and distracted herself by answering Triss’ question instead. “It is fully functional. Hell, with this thing I’ll probably be twice as powerful. I might even be brave enough to challenge Sabrina to another arm wrestling match with it.”

Triss felt her heart flutter at the thought of Sabrina’s upper body strength. It was something she had built up after years and years of archery practice. She had never seen someone more accurate on the range than Sabrina and she nearly blushed at the thought of watching her during a competition long ago, still amazed that she had found the courage to speak to her after she had taken first place.

“She would still win.” Triss said softly as she smiled.

Coral’s eyes widened and she looked at Yennefer, the raven haired sorceress stifled a laugh. She rubbed her stump and responded to the suddenly cocky healer. “I see marriage has made you quite the shit talker. I like it.”

“She’s probably right though, you know how competitive Sabrina is.” Yennefer replied.

As if on queue, the door opened and Sabrina walked in, offering the pry bar to Coral as she furrowed her brow at all the attention she seemed to be getting at the moment. “Why is everyone gawking at me?”

“It’s nothing, we were just appreciating you,” Triss said as she leaned down slightly and placed a quick kiss on Sabrina’s cheek, close to her ear.

“I wasn’t…” Coral husked as she drove the metal between the sealed joints of the wood, causing the box to shift until Yennefer rushed forward and helped her to brace it. “I was just about to tell them about how I’m going to mop the floor with you, come our next arm wrestling match.”

Sabrina smirked. “Magical metal arm or not, that’s your weak arm. I’ll still win.”

They all continued to laugh at the unadulterated pissing contest as Coral popped each corner of the box and then set down the bar down next to the desk, taking note to be sure to clean the splinters wood which now littered the surface of Tissaia’s workspace. The adrenaline which flooded her body made her heart pound and her hand shake as she lifted the lid and began to remove the linen cloth they had used to protect the item through it’s travels.

Once Coral had reached her prize, she let out a satisfied breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in. “It’s a true work of art.”

She carefully removed the prosthetic and set it on the desk. Gazing at it in wonderment as she felt a connection to it already. It was as if that which had been taken from her was truly being given back.

It was made for her and she was made for it.

She ran her fingers along the thick leather straps of the harness and relished the sound of the metal buckles as they clinked together. She touched along the cold darkened steel of the skeletal framework and felt a shiver run through her body as she began to unfasten the top button of her sleeveless tunic. A dress style she favored over her thick long sleeved robes as it was much easier to care for her arm, or lack thereof, this way.

She stopped as Sabrina shifted uncomfortably and she recalled that not everyone was comfortable with nudity. Growing up in a longhouse in Skellige, a large household for a large family, where little privacy was offered, had made Coral much less shy about those things than most. “Sorry,” she muttered as she fastened the button and slipped the harness over her head. She would do this over her tunic for now, if only to be considerate of the others that were in the room. 

The instant she placed her stump inside of the prosthetic’s leather encasing, she felt a tingling sensation as she positioned it appropriately. It was nearly a perfect fit. The inside of the hard leather covering for her stump was padded with soft fur, a comfortable sensation against the scarred remnants of her right arm. Triss made a move to help her but she waved her off, for this was something she needed to learn how to do alone. She fumbled with the leathers for a few awkward moments before she finally found a way to fasten the strap on her right shoulder, which held the piece in place.

Once she did so, she felt a rush of magic flood into the metal arm. She moved to flex it but hadn’t quite adjusted to the control it took to move it properly and nearly punched herself in the face. “Learning curve, apparently,” she said with a chuckle. 

After a few clumsy attempts, she was finally able to grab the strap under her left arm with her new fingers, and fasten it so that the entire apparatus was securely in place. She reached for a large splinter on the desk and squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger. She could nearly feel it. The sensation of touch was muted but it was there and she needed only to think about an action and the arm responded.

“It’s amazing,” Triss said as she approached and studied the creation.

“Hmm…” Sabrina looked at her a few times. “I’m still going to win.”

“Piss off, Glevissig,” Coral replied as she extended her hand and flexed the fingers then rotated the wrist. She lifted it up towards her face, bending the elbow and drawing it back and forth in the air a few times.

“Do you play the violin?” Yennefer asked as she watched the motions she was trying to replicate.

“Fiddle,” Coral corrected her, unwilling to let the raven haired sorceress think that she played the stuffy style of music she was accustomed to hearing during her time in Aedirn. No, hers was the music of Skellige, much more jumpy and bright than the even and stiff royal dances. Hearing a melody of her homeland in her head, she continued practicing the movements. “It may take some time but I’ll get the hang of it again,” she said as she gathered the wooden box in her arms and started to head towards the door.

Triss and Sabrina began to follow.

Yennefer couldn’t bring herself to move towards  _ that  _ door. She could hardly deny the fact to herself anymore, she wanted to stay with Tissaia. The memory of Fringilla’s attack against her still weighed heavily upon her and she didn’t want to leave her alone and exposed.

“Are you going to remain here for the night?” Triss said with an edge of concern in her voice.

“Yes, I… I just want to make sure tonight goes well.” Yennefer replied as she caught one last look from Coral before she left.

“I understand.” Triss smiled as she closed the door, leaving her alone.

As soon as Yennefer heard the click of the mechanism that the door was shut, she went to work. First layering several protective wards together, weaving them all around the rooms of Tissaia’s quarters, then her own mind. Once she had finished she quietly entered Tissaia’s bedroom, trying not to disturb her.

A new compress had been prepared and applied and she seemed to be resting peacefully. Her eyes wandered across her form as she quietly sat in the chair she had grown so accustomed to. At this point she was tired enough to fall asleep anywhere, so she closed her eyes and listened to the soft sounds of Tissaia’s breathing as she drifted off to sleep herself. Yennefer was mildly aware that she was smiling ever so slightly to herself, before exhaustion claimed her completely and her body finally forced her to shut down.

~~~

The first sensation that Yennefer felt when she woke up was a prodding in her leg. She shifted without truly opening her eyes, murmuring something indistinctly. The prodding continued, a sharp finger that poked in her knee. As she jolted awake fully, she glared at whatever it was that bothered her so. A pale hand slithered back underneath the blankets, folding peacefully onto Tissaia’s stomach once again. 

“You snore, piglet,” Tissaia said, though there was no venom in her voice. She mostly sounded tired. 

Yennefer didn’t reply. As she looked at Tissaia’s resting form, she was reminded of the things that had happened the night prior. She even failed to notice that, in the hours between then and the next evening, Tissaia had gotten much friendlier with her. It was even more friendly than the way they had spoken on the eve before the battle, and the warmth that the rectoress had held in her eyes that night had returned. She also didn’t see that Tissaia started to frown as she studied Yennefer’s face. There was a kind of emptiness in those purple eyes that she had rarely seen from her. 

“What is bothering you, Yennefer?” she asked in the softest tone she could muster at that moment. 

_ ‘I saw your dead body in some freakish mental image that Fringilla conjured in my mind,’  _ Yennefer wanted to say, but it seemed as if her tongue had twisted itself into a knot. There was a tension in the muscles of her throat, and she knew that she likely couldn’t speak, even if she by some miracle found the words to do so. She couldn’t express something so vulnerable, she couldn’t show how much it bothered her to have that nightmarish vision seared into her mind. Her heart pounded in her ears as her feelings briefly overwhelmed her. When she looked at Tissaia, she wanted to protect her from any further harm, even if the rectoress had access to her magic again and could just as well do that by herself. 

“I - ” she eventually choked out, before taking a deep breath and forcing the words in a rapid tempo out of her mouth. “Fringilla invaded my mind yesterday night and she tried to set me up against you.” 

Tissaia’s blue eyes widened momentarily. “Oh…” she uttered. “I see she indeed tried that with the both of us.” 

Fiery anger rose in Yennefer’s chest as she stood from her armchair. At that moment, she was fully prepared to portal to Emhyr var Emreis’ court in Nilfgaard and murder Fringilla in an instant. The fire in the hearth briefly roared along with her emotions, flickering up so high that the flames licked the bottom of the dark wooden mantlepiece. Then Tissaia’s hand returned to her leg, just above the knee, steadying her and silently telling her to sit down. 

“Whatever she has told you, Tissaia, know that I won’t betray you anymore. No matter how convincing she was, I… I am past that.” Yennefer bitterly said, as dark memories from how she had acted in Rinde rose to the surface of her mind. But she wasn’t that person anymore. The fire at Sodden seemed to have burned that away. “Tissaia, you  _ know _ that she was lying, right? Don’t believe a thing of - of whatever it was she said to you!” 

Panic sounded through in her voice when Yennefer asked the question that she didn’t want answered: “What… what  _ was _ it that she said to you?” 

Now it was Tissaia’s turn to take a deep breath and find herself unable to speak for a few moments. Her voice was monotone and carefully made devoid of emotion when she spoke. “Fringilla told me to give up the fight,” she said, while carefully patting on the blanket with her right hand, where her wound was. “She doesn’t know that you found a cure. But… given that I live, perhaps she suspects something. She showed me how she used Sabrina to wound you. She showed me how both of my treasured students fell from the tower at Sodden Hill. And how one landed better than the other.”

Yennefer looked away as Tissaia paused, the rectoress took a long, measured breath. The younger mage felt bile burning in the back of her throat, hastily swallowing to get rid of the unpleasant feeling. When she looked at the bed, she saw that Tissaia was trying to keep herself together, but struggling. It was minute, but the way she opened and closed her eyes a few times and the way her breath sped up ever so slightly told Yennefer enough. They were both trying to appear strong for the other. 

“Then I reached through the veil of the poison in my body and showed her you.  **_You_ ** , and all your chaos and your fire. I think it must have frightened her, because she broke the connection shortly after,” Tissaia said, sighing deeply and averting her eyes to the ceiling. 

The room was filled with nothing but silence accompanied by the gentle crackle of burning wood in the fireplace for a few minutes. On occasion, a cold draft would circulate through the room, a reminder of the outside elements.

“Was giving up the fight something you had considered?” Yennefer asked quietly, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer or not.

Tissaia looked deep into her eyes before she responded, trying to find the right words to describe how she felt during her most painful moments. She had often been unconscious, and nearly all of her waking moments in the past week had been spent trying to hold onto something that seemed to be fleeting more with every second. “I had to consider the fact that my fight may have been taken from me, but I would never willingly give it up. Do you remember what I told you the night before the battle? That  _ you  _ have so much left to give?”

Yennefer swallowed thickly, nodding her head yes without uttering a word, for she remembered the entire conversation as if it had happened only minutes ago. She also remembered how close they had been sitting, close enough to rest her head against Tissaia’s, should she have wanted that.

“Well,  _ I also _ have so much left to give.” Tissaia’s voice cracked just a bit as she spoke, her eyes scanned Yennefer’s features before continuing, “and there are so many things that are still worth fighting for.” 

“I was so worried.” Yennefer said as she found herself letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding in. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for the right words to say to Tissaia. Finally, she decided, it was just time to tell her the truth. She had been floundering around far too much, and she simply couldn’t stave it off for longer. “I have never worried over someone in such a way before. I  _ feel  _ something for you, something that I haven’t felt before for anyone else. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m safe now. You have been watching over me and worrying over me since the battle of Sodden and I -” Tissaia halted her reply immediately once Yennefer’s words sunk in. She had to replay them a few more times internally before she finally comprehended what the other woman had just said.

_ ‘I feel something for you, something that I haven’t felt before for anyone else.’ _

Those were Yennefer’s exact words. Tissaia felt both her heart and her cheeks warm. Her mind began to race out of control and she found herself frozen in place. Her hands shook and felt so disconnected from the rest of her body as she tried to adjust the blankets which were already providing adequate coverage. As she fumbled clumsily with the thick folds, she knew it was time to confront the feelings she had been avoiding since the night before the battle, at the very least. Letting them remain unspoken for much longer could very well have their conversation fizzle out, leaving her with no more opportunities to confess, since her busy life would start again and Yennefer wouldn’t stay in Aretuza without good reason. Tissaia wondered if she could be that reason. Could she be enough for Yennefer?

“I fear I would be a disappointment to you, as a lover. Just like your previous one.” Tissaia found herself rattling off her deepest fear.

Yennefer felt the heat of her own blood as it dusted her cheeks with a light blush. She saw the sadness in Tissaia’s eyes, overshadowing the want in them. “Why would you think a thing like that, Tissaia?”

Tissaia shrugged and looked towards the wall, far away from Yennefer’s beautiful eyes. “It has been so long since I have even known how to touch someone, let alone love them. I fear we may be too different in order for this to work. I don’t like to rush in, I don’t like to move too fast, and you… you may want something else.”

Yennefer stood from the chair and sat on the edge of Tissaia’s bed, being careful not to overstep. With anyone else, she would have lifted them up, pulled them close and kissed them with a fiery passion. Yet with Tissaia, she was overcome with the urge to be careful. She rested her hand on the mattress and leaned towards the other woman, calmly asking her a question. “Do you remember what you told me, the night before the battle? After I had told you that I had lived several lifetimes?”

“That you hadn’t been satisfied in any of them.” Tissaia nodded, as she too remembered the words they had shared. 

“Yes, and then I told you that I had tried, but that I had no legacy to leave behind. No family… I was ready to accept that life had no more left to give. Yet I was wrong. I have you, and you are my legacy. Everything that you’ve taught me…  _ that _ is my legacy,” Yennefer said as she slid her hand closer to Tissaia. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt warm fingers intertwining with her own. 

“And I am not ready to die until I have truly lived.” The rectoress said as she exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to blink away tears.

Yennefer leaned in closer, her breathing had changed several revelations ago and although she was completely looking forward to taking her time with Tissaia, she had to know just one thing. “How long do you think it would be until I can just lie next to you and hold you?”

Tissaia smiled and winced slightly as she moved over, pulling the covers back and inviting Yennefer to come closer to her with the look in her eyes. “I believe I’m ready for that now.”

It took a moment to ready herself for this. Yennefer kicked off her shoes and climbed closer to Tissaia, scooting backwards on the bed until she sat on it properly. She peeled the socks off her feet and waved her hand to divest herself of her black breeches, which smoothly faded from her form. Then she moved to do the same with her shirt, only stopping at the last second, quelling the magic in her hand. She had just promised to be considerate with Tissaia. Thus she only removed the wrap around her chest, knowing that it was uncomfortable to sleep in. 

She couldn’t resist flicking a grin at Tissaia, lifting her eyebrows in a gesture of “I told you I’d let you take your time”. Her veins filled with a warmth that spread through her entire being as Tissaia returned the smile with a little huff. Then Yennefer pressed up against the rectoress’ smaller frame, uncertain where she should rest her hand until Tissaia took it and laid it gently just above the wound on her abdomen. She squeezed it softly then rested her own hand on the back of Yennefer’s. Very faintly, Yennefer could feel the padding of the compress underneath Tissaia’s nightgown.

Because of how much taller she was, Yennefer could easily look over Tissaia’s shoulder, as she made herself comfortable and pulled the blankets over the both of them. “I’ve never seen you smile like that before,” Yennefer said as she scanned over Tissaia’s face trying to make certain that everything she was doing was still alright.

“I haven’t had a reason to do so before,” Tissaia replied as her smile continued to grow. 

Yennefer could feel the hum in Tissaia's chest as she spoke. The sheer feeling of being so close to her warmed her heart, and she pressed the bridge of her nose against Tissaia’s back, where the nightgown was open and her neck met her shoulder. Then she hesitantly asked a question. “Can I kiss you here?”

“Yes, you can,” Tissaia responded with a whisper, squeezing Yennefer’s hand more tightly and holding the younger mage’s arm securely against her side.

As Yennefer pressed her lips against soft skin she was struck by a realisation. One she couldn’t help but to verbalize. “We should have done this much sooner."

It took some time before Tissaia answered with a soft  _ mhmm.  _ From how sluggish her voice sounded, Yennefer deduced that she had in fact been falling asleep. That meant that the pain from the dimeritium removal had faded, and that in turn meant that it must have been completed somewhere during their conversation. 

Finally, they could rest. 

~~~

Tissaia was small in her arms. Small and warm, softly breathing and practically making Yennefer’s heart melt in her chest. She hadn’t expected to be the first to wake up, but Tissaia must have been exhausted from the many nights of restlessness. As Yennefer blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she considered waking her up with a kiss on her shoulder. But the woman slept so soundly and looked so soft in her slumber that she could barely bring herself to wake her up. 

Then she felt a disturbance at the edge of her mind. Someone was prodding at the many mental shields that she had put up the night prior. The presence felt familiar. It was Triss. 

_ ‘Yennefer!’ _ her panicked voice soon sounded.  _ ‘Yennefer, get up! There are Nilfgaardian soldiers on the lower floors, the entire greenhouse is on fire. They’re invading the school! Sabrina and I are trying to hold them off and Coral is getting the best students from the older years to help, but we can barely manage it. Hurry! You must come over here!’  _

Jolting upright, Yennefer let go of Tissaia and was about to jump out of the bed when the rectoress awoke too. She laid a hand on Yennefer’s leg and asked her what was going on. The contact was grounding, soothing even, and Yennefer found herself covering the smaller hand with her own. “Nilfgaard in the gardens. Someone must have let them in,” she quickly said. 

Tissaia sat upright too, putting her hand on Yennefer’s shoulder as she frowned. “We have a traitor in our midst, then.” 

“Yes, we apparently do. And I have to go now before they-” 

Yennefer tried to get up, but Tissaia wouldn’t let her, pressing down with her hand. “Stay calm, Yennefer,” she said. 

“I’d like to, but  _ Nilfgaard is invading Aretuza _ , Triss and Sabrina can’t hold them off forever and I can’t see through the walls of this place to see what they’re doing.” Yennefer felt panic in her chest. She couldn’t lose everything, so quickly after finally waking up with a new lover in her arms. Someone she knew wasn’t just going to leave her, someone she could grow with. No, Yennefer was not willing to let this be taken from her.

Tissaia nodded, still not letting go of Yennefer. Every second seemed to tick by as the rectoress spoke. “There is a potion cabinet in my study. Drink the one in the small, greenish bottle that’s stashed away in the left corner. It will make you able to do what you want.” 

“What I want?” Yennefer was completely perplexed.

“See through walls,” Tissaia curtly said, releasing her grip on Yennefer’s shoulder. “It’s called De Vries’ extract. I invented it over a century ago.” 

As Yennefer rushed over to the cabinet, she stumbled on her own two feet. Her hands collided with the cabinet and she could hardly twist the knob just enough to open the doors. She hurriedly tried to recall just where it was that Tissaia said this potion was hiding, but in the midst of it she paused.

“You invented  _ what _ ?” She said as she turned around to face the woman still lying in bed.

“An extract,” Tissaia said as she arched her brow slightly.

“To see through walls?” Yennefer inquired as she hastily shoved aside every bottle which did not look like the one Tissaia had described. Once she found the one she thought it was, she held it up to Tissaia for approval.

“Yes, to see through walls, and yes that’s it.”

Yennefer quickly pulled the glass cork from the vial with her teeth and downed it’s contents, summoning back her clothing as she reached for her boots. “Why would you make something like this?”

Tissaia simply shrugged and then replied. “For situations **_such as_ ** this.”

The liquid burned Yennefer’s throat just slightly, but aside from that, she had no complaints. It actually tasted nice as it was sweet, like honeysuckle. She felt dizzy for just a moment but once that had subsided and she looked around, she could see everything through the stone walls she once thought offered privacy.

She wanted to continue looking around in a state of wonderment, but once she turned to the direction of the fire, she felt her heart rate increase. There were figures running and she could both see  _ and  _ feel their panic. She could practically hear their screams as they ran to hide behind a form shaped like Sabrina, who was drawing back arrow after arrow as the fire spread.

With a few simple words, a portal flared to life. Just as she was about to step through it, she heard Tissaia call to her.

“Piglet.”

She turned and looked at Tissaia. Her color seemed to be returning to her cheeks and she looked stronger with each breath she took.

“Yes, Tissaia?”

“Reserve your chaos,” the older woman said to her as Yennefer smiled and stepped through a portal which led directly into the guest quarters which she had been occupying since the night before Sodden.

“Only if you stay in bed!” Yennefer shouted, not even bothering to look back as she rushed through the window she had opened to her room, and collided into a chair.

“Fuck,” she uttered as she held her leg and hobbled to the stand which she had hung her swords upon. She hadn’t used them since the battle in the dragon’s lair and the memories of that day threatened to rise in her mind. But she forced them away, since she absolutely couldn’t use them at that moment. She held the portal open with her magic while pulling the swords from the stand then slung them around her waist. As she fastened the buckles, she whispered another incantation which shifted the portal to a location near where the bulk of the fighting seemed to be. Thanks to Tissaia’s potion she could see the location clearly.

The moment she stepped through, she felt a rush of heat which reminded her far too much of Sodden. She held her arm up and breathed into her elbow as she tried to squint through the ash, flame and smoke.

Suddenly her body was jarred. Something clamped itself around her waist like a strangling vine. She looked to the source and saw a frightened young apprentice, whom she recognized, clinging to her. “Glacella?”

“I saw… there were… I - I think I killed them. There were soldiers in the garden and they were chasing after me and I felt a rush of power and I-” The young girl frantically stammered as Yennefer pulled her close, taking note of the blood which ran down her arm, originating from an open gash, cut clean through her blue uniform dress. 

“You had a conduit moment,” Yennefer said, attempting to calm her as she tried to locate Sabrina and Triss. With the help of Tissaia’s potion, she was able to spot them through the thick, black smoke which was filling the corridor.

“What am I supposed to do now.” The young girl exasperated as she looked into Yennefer’s eyes, clutching her upper arm and shedding tears. “I - I still feel it… that energy, in my body. It won’t go away!” 

“That’s what being a sorceress feels like. It’s your inner chaos. We can talk about this later, when people aren’t dying,” Yennefer said as she laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder and began to run to where she had seen Triss and Sabrina. No sooner had she reached the smoke-filled corridor, than she heard the distinct sound of a bowstring being pulled back. “Sabrina! Don’t shoot, it’s me!” 

“Yennefer, thank the Gods,” Sabrina breathed, lowering her bow and averting her eyes to the scared apprentice. “Triss is taking the rest to Tor Lara, she and Coral are holding the courtyard until all the younger apprentices are gathered there. Go, you’re not safe here.” 

Glacella sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve before turning to Yennefer. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “For what I said to you, before you left for Sodden.” 

“I know. We’ll speak later. Now get out of here and stay safe.” After Glacella took off in the direction of the courtyard, Yennefer drew her swords. The one in her stronger left hand was long and fairly slender, with a thin tip and razor sharp edges. It was a leftover from her time at the court of Aedirn, but she had never gotten rid of it. Why waste a good blade? Her right hand sword was shorter and broader. It was more meant for blocking other weapons than for the attack, and it had the thick blade and large crossguard to match. “Where did they go?” Yennefer asked Sabrina, because even with Tissaia’s potion, she couldn’t see any Nilfgaardian soldiers anymore. 

“There’s an open portal somewhere in the back of the greenhouse. We need to shut it down, but going in there with the two of us is suicide, at the moment.” Sabrina raised her bow and gestured through the thick smoke and the flickering flames, in the direction of where both she and Yennefer once had their first class. “The rest ran off after Coral and the older pupils, but I think they can handle themselves.” 

Yennefer felt a smirk pull at her lips as she readied her blades. “And you don’t want to nobly sacrifice yourself to stop this madness?” 

“No.” A dark look spread over Sabrina’s features as the two sorceresses both felt the incoming rush of magic that sparked from somewhere on the other side of the gardens. The portal was working again. “I want my revenge. They turned me against you once, now I’ll have their heads.” 

Chaos erupted once the Nilfgaardian soldiers poured through the portal. Yennefer squinted as she focussed her enhanced sight on it, since gauging the distance was hard and if she did it wrongly, she could look through the back wall instead. Someone was standing next to the portal, holding it open. After a frustrating few seconds, Yennefer could properly look through the smoke and see the person. She’d recognise that slicked back hair anywhere. Vilgefortz. Tissaia’s words resonated within her mind.  _ ‘We have a traitor in our midst, then.’  _

“Vilgefortz is a spy,” she warned Sabrina. “He’s the one who opened the portal.” 

“Well, I’ll be sure to put an arrow in his head when I see him.” It was all Sabrina could say before the group of soldiers burst from the smoke and she started rapidly firing arrows. Yennefer sheathed her shorter blade and extended her hand. She could feel the air contract around her as she focused the energy outwards in a wave, towards the incoming soldiers. It felled three outright, and a fourth stumbled around for a few moments until Sabrina’s arrow cleaved clean through his skull. 

Behind them were five more. Yennefer drew her shorter blade again and charged, crossing both swords to catch an incoming attack, then sidestepping and slicing her right hand sword deep into her opponent’s stomach. Another charged on her left, but before she could raise her blades again, they fell to the ground with two arrows in their back. Sabrina was still glowering at the corpse when it hit the floor, lust for vengeance in her eyes. “Yennefer, on your right!” she called out, her voice a low growl. 

Yennefer ducked underneath the Nilfgaardian’s blade. Then she felt a presence behind her and saw a flash of fiery red hair. Coral’s metal fist connected with the soldier’s head at the very same moment that Yennefer stabbed them through the back. The interim rectoress seemed to have gained enough control over her prosthetic to fight with it, and she shot a half grin at Yennefer. She spread her arms, pushing the smoke away from them with a gust of wind. As she clenched her hands into fists and channeled the chaos through her body, her right hand gave a metallic crunch, but it handled the amount of power well. 

“We have to close that portal,” Coral said, panting slightly from running all the way from the courtyard. “Vilgefortz came back to Aretuza yesterday evening, and I thought nothing of it. I didn’t tell you and Tissaia, because I thought you two deserved some rest. He started messing with Aretuza’s defensive spells in the morning and then all hell broke loose.” 

Triss finally joined them, also harshly panting and bringing a hand to her chest. She wasn’t the best runner, and Coral’s long legs and Skelligen physique had left her behind after a few feet. “The apprentices are safe in Tor Lara. I warded the bridge, some of the students nearing ascension are with them.” 

They had stood together in battle before, but not quite like this. They had fought separately at Sodden, now they stood together, in a row between the burning gardens and the rest of Aretuza. Yennefer had her blades drawn, her hair still messy from being rudely awakened. Sabrina brought her hand up to her bow and summoned another arrow onto the string. Her eyebrows were drawn together tightly in concentration and her sharp features were accentuated by the shadows of the flickering flames around them. Triss had her eyes closed and was feeling for any life forces within the fire that didn't belong to the Nilfgaardians, but luckily found none. Coral clenched her metal hand into a fist and gathered energy in her other hand, her entire body strung tightly, ready to release that chaos in a split second. 

Then they all heard a voice within their heads. 

_ ‘Focus on the portal. Aretuza will defend itself for long enough _ .’

Tissaia. 

The rectoress knew the spells that were woven into every stone of the castle. She knew that hidden wards would activate and that traps would be sprung. If necessary, the entire place could become saturated with energy so powerful that not a single soul would be able to withstand its might, For that was the full power of the conduits that swam beneath the ancient citadel. Such were the defenses that had protected Aretuza for many centuries. 

The portal flickered and hummed, indicating that another wave of soldiers was coming for them. 

“Now!” Yennefer yelled. 

At once, Coral released the energy she had been gathering. It swept in a broad wave low over the ground, throwing the incoming Nilfgaardians off their feet. Vilgefortz swayed by the portal, but was able to keep standing, which made Coral swear a long, Skelligen curse under her breath. Instantly, Sabrina was raining down arrows onto their foes and Triss used a few of the tough, thorny branches that weren’t on fire to wind around them. Once Yennefer saw an opening, she ran forward, cutting down a soldier that was about to stand up to face her. Another was pulled down by the vines that spread over the floor at a rapid tempo thanks to Triss. 

“You fucking traitor!” Coral yelled as she pulled a short dagger with her prosthesis, lunging at Vilgefortz. “You only rescued me to save your own ass and gain easy access to Aretuza!” 

In response, he summoned a blade to his hand, throwing it at Coral like he had attacked Cahir in their mock fight at Sodden. Sparks flew from Coral’s dark steel hand as she caught the sword with a screech of metal, preparing to throw it back and give Yennefer an opening to shut down the portal. Then Vilgefortz gathered energy in his hand and shot it at the two incoming sorceresses with unprecedented speed. 

Yennefer vaulted sideways, feeling the bolt in the air as it missed her by an inch. Coral dropped to the ground as it sheared over her head. The smell of burnt hair permeated the air, but apart from that she seemed to be unhurt. Yennefer’s heart was pounding in her chest, then she heard the sound of breaking glass behind her and the fire flared up higher than ever before. 

The portal closed with a hiss as Vilgefortz threw another bottle of something into the flames, making them burn brightly in shades of yellow and orange as they shot up to the ceiling and licked at the ancient stones. Yennefer covered her eyes with her arm so as to not get blinded. She tried to focus on Vilgefortz’s running form through the smoke but only managed to see through the walls behind him, thanks to Tissaia’s potion. It was difficult to use it well, and when she finally managed it, she only saw that Sabrina missed him with an arrow. 

Triss tried to manipulate some of the plants in the garden to ensnare him, but she wasn’t quick enough. A wave of energy swept her off her feet, throwing her into one of the low benches in the greenhouse. She uttered a shrill cry when colliding with it. Sabrina’s hand jerked on her bow and her arrow flew several feet over Vilgefortz’s head.    
  
“No! You bastard!” Yennefer shrieked, feeling the fire around her as it spread further into the castle, following the retreating sorcerer. It was too much and was covering ground far too quickly to put out with spells. 

As Coral rushed to Triss, Sabrina tried to shoot a final arrow in Vilgefortz’ direction, but he was too far away already and her hands were empty of arrows when she tried to summon them. A trickle of blood began to run down from her nose, the result of having spent so much magic to keep firing arrows at their foes. 

Triss was alright, but shaken and bruised. Vilgefortz hadn’t used a lethal attack, which made all four sorceresses wonder what he was up to, and where he ran to in such a hurry. When Yennefer focussed her potion-aided sight, she saw him race up the stairs of Aretuza, to where Tissaia had her quarters. 

Her heart froze in her chest when she realized what he wanted to do. 

_ ‘Tissaia,’  _ she said, voice growing tight as she tried to reach the older mage before it was too late.  _ ‘Tissaia, Vilgefortz is the traitor! He is coming to your chambers. Tissaia, he’s trying to assassinate you.’ _

~~~

Tissaia slowly stood up from the bed, folding the blankets back. They still contained Yennefer’s warmth, and she wasn’t pleased at all that she had to set them aside so soon. Aretuza was in chaos. She could feel the minds of her apprentices panicking, their energy sparking wildly. One in particular made the hair on the back of her neck rise. A conduit moment, one of the more powerful that she had felt in her many decades as rectoress. Perhaps one of the untalented initiates had finally found her inner chaos. She didn’t have much time to think on it, because she saw the smoke billowing from the lower levels when she cast a look out of the window. 

She linked herself into Coral’s mind, seeing flashes of the Skelligen mage running through the corridors to herd the apprentices to the courtyard.  _ ‘What is the status in the gardens, Astrid?’  _

_ ‘On fire,’  _ Coral replied.  _ ‘Everything is on fucking fire and there’s a portal somewhere in there where the Nilfgaardians are coming from.’ _

_ ‘Keep me informed of the situation, bring the apprentices to Tor Lara and select the most promising amongst them to help with the defenses.’  _ Tissaia’s bad leg ached as she grabbed a bedpost and hoisted herself to her feet fully. She reached for her cane and limped to her closet, determined to ignore the dull throbbing in the wound on her thigh. Aretuza was everything she stood for, and she was going to defend it to her last breath. 

When she loosened the bandage around her waist and removed the compress, she found that it still had large spots of yellow on it. She couldn’t suppress the fact that her breath sped up when she looked at her wound. It was still severe, a deep, rough cut that ached badly when she tensed her stomach muscles. But there were no black veins crawling under her skin anymore, no inflammation around the edges and no signs of further dimeritium poisoning. She was dizzy when she lifted her head again, a reminder of the fact that her body was still very weak. But she had no time for any of that now. Tissaia drank a potion against the pain, to dull it for a few hours. She didn’t prefer the numbness of it to the ache, but she had to be able to concentrate. Then she applied many layers of clean linen wrappings around the wounds on her stomach and leg. 

The dress she chose was jet black, cinched tightly around her waist, with padding in the shoulders and a dark red inside that showed vividly on the high collar. It had slits that ran halfway up her legs, for the movability that she needed in this battle. Her leg was hindering her enough already. Golden threads were woven in curling patterns on the chest and sleeves, like outlines of flames that wound around her body. They complemented the golden cap of the handle of her cane well. Underneath the dress she wore high-waisted breeches that were both supple and soft on her skin. They were a very dark brown, like the elegant boots that she put on to complete the look. The boots had a little bit of a heel, to elevate her height by half an inch. Both the soles and the noses of them were encased in hard steel. 

She one again linked herself into Coral’s mind, seeing that she was now with Yennefer, Sabrina and Triss in the gardens.  _ ‘Focus on the portal,’  _ she said to them, letting her voice resonate through their minds.  _ ‘Aretuza will defend itself for long enough.’  _

Tissaia extended her senses, tapping into the magic that fueled Aretuza. She could feel where every single hidden ward, trap and defence mechanism was. It wouldn’t be enough to hold back a full blown invasion, but she could still stop this one. Confidently, she tapped with her cane on the ground, feeling the slight presence of the magic in the wood. She could access it, finally, and she had a feeling that the cane’s hidden properties would come in handy very soon.

Just as she was about to cast a portal, she heard Yennefer’s panicked voice in her mind.  _ ‘Tissaia. Tissaia! Vilgefortz is the traitor! He is coming to your chambers. Tissaia, he’s trying to assassinate you.’ _

It struck Tissaia deeply, more than she had thought it would. Sodden had been a fluke. A gamble by the Nilfgaardians, who had thought that they could have won it and taken out the most powerful mages on the continent. She had been set up by Vilgefortz, right from the moment that he had suggested to make their last stand there. Tissaia supposed that she wasn’t the only one feeling bitter now. But they had won once, so they could win again. 

She dimmed the flames in the hearth of the bedchamber and opened the door to the study. Once she closed the heavy green curtains and extinguished the candles, everything was bathed into darkness. She couldn’t see a thing, but neither would Vilgefortz. 

Then she tapped her cane onto the ground again, relishing how the hard metal cap on the bottom made the sound echo through the chambers. 

~~~

Yennefer felt the strain on her muscles as she ran with the others from a fire which was rapidly swallowing Aretuza up brick by brick. Her eyes felt raw and her lungs ached. No matter how much air she breathed in, it never felt like it was enough. It was accompanied by fits of coughing. The smoke was strangling all of them and Triss was now wheezing in between breaths. Casting a portal directly into Tissaia’s chamber would be ideal, but she had drained enough of her power as it was and needed to reserve some to face Vilgefortz.

There was chaos everywhere, and not only in the form of the flames but in the form of screaming and fear. The corridors of the academy were filled with panicked inhabitants who hadn’t evacuated before the fires had started. They fled from their quarters, some tripping and falling over each other. All of them wearing the same look of shock. A look Yennefer had seen several times before.

As they continued to run, Yennefer could feel the fire pulling at her very being. It wanted her to push it further, into every crevice of the great structure which was Aretuza until it had enveloped and consumed everything. It’s appetite was much more insatiable than even she could imagine and she felt the magical enhancements which allowed it to spread so quickly and travel so uninhibited. Not even the thick stone walls could stop it from getting through to the wooden support beams which you would never have known were there. Great tapestries which hung on the walls for hundreds of years burst into flames and disintegrated into nothing more than ash in a few seconds.

The impending threat began to trigger some of the defensive wards but just as soon as one fire had been quelled, another one burst into life and began to chase them again. Yennefer cringed at the realization of what that meant, hoping that Anica was not one of the conduits in the pool whose energy had been used in order to halt some of these threats.

_ ‘Control your chaos.’ _

Yennefer heard Tissaia’s voice ringing throughout her head. She couldn’t tell if it was actually the woman speaking to her telepathically or if she had conjured the rectoress’ voice on her own accord. Either way, she knew it was time to stop running and face this.

She slowed to a halt and leaned forward, bending at the waist and bracing her arms against her knees as she coughed a few times, gasping for air and trying to steady her nerves as the flames whispered to her.

“Vengerberg, are you insane? You can’t stop running, we have to go now.” Coral shouted at her, grabbing her by the arm as Triss and Sabrina turned back around as well. None of them were willing to let her give up.

Though giving up wasn’t something Yennefer wanted to do, not anymore. “I’ve been running from too many things for too long.” she said with an edge of determination in her voice before gesturing towards the encroaching fire. “This is something I need to face. Get back, stay as far away from me as you can.”

“Yennefer, no!” Triss panted as loudly as she could, her eyebrows were drawn up in the center and tears were cresting her lower eyelids. She looked more worried than she had ever seen her before.

“I have to deal with this. This chaos has been haunting me since Sodden. I can no longer run from it, I need to control it.” Yennefer turned to face the flames, catching a glimpse of Sabrina and Coral as they pulled Triss backwards away from her before continuing to run further down the hall.

Slowly she raised her hands, palms facing upwards, just like she did at Sodden before she scorched the army. She felt the great interest the fire held for her and she spoke to it, offering the invitation it had been waiting for ever since she first felt its power.

“I know how it feels to want  _ everything _ , and I know what it is like to stop at  _ nothing  _ in order to get it,” she said as she began to draw the inferno into her body, slowly at first so as not to become overwhelmed. Her hands began to glow and it began to spread up her arms, following the path of her veins and burning along the way.

She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath as she pulled even more of the fire into her body. A connection to it was establishing itself, and she could see every part of the burning blaze. She was finally ready and commanded  _ all  _ of it to enter her body, it obeyed blindly. Her eyes shot open as the force hit her like an avalanche. A searing pain greater than anything she had ever felt coursed through her being. It completely overshadowed the pain of her transformation. She staggered back and then fell to her knees, her hands hit the ground and she noticed the flesh of her arms resembled that of burning cinders. Her eyes were filled with flames.

It wanted out but Yennefer fought hard against it and kept it contained within her body until it began to wane. She smothered it internally until it was finally extinguished.

Coral and Sabrina rushed over, helping her to her feet as Triss handed her a healing potion. She eagerly consumed it, treasuring the cooling sensation which flooded her body. Her eyes scanned through the walls in the direction of Tissaia’s quarters. The effects of the extract were fading but she could just make out Vilgefortz’ figure as he stalked closer to where the rectoress was stationed.

“We need to get to Tissaia now, Vilgefortz is almost there.” She said as she used the last of her power to open a portal directly to her room.

“How do you know this?” Sabrina asked with a look of confusion on her face.

“Tissaia invented an extract, apparently.” Yennefer replied as she wiped the trickle of blood from her nose and they stepped out of the smoke filled corridor and into Tissaia’s study. Her heart began to pound at the sight of Tissaia standing again, with cane in hand and perfect posture. It made her appear slightly taller, though the boots had certainly enhanced that look. She nearly shuddered at the black dress as the memory forced into her head by Fringilla resurfaced briefly. But this black dress was much different than the one in the memory, and she was standing instead of lying on a slab.

Yennefer was able to shake the image from her head. “Vilgefortz is almost here, I can still see him but the effects are fading.”

“And the fires?” Tissaia inquired as she stood in front of her bed, folding both hands atop her cane as she waited for him to enter.

“They were… dealt with,” Coral said as she shot a look towards Yennefer.

“Good. Now to deal with this traitor. Stand in the shadows of my study, I want him to think I’m alone and vulnerable,” Tissaia all but commanded.

No sooner had filed into the dark recesses of the room, than the door opened with a soft click and Vilgefortz entered. He quietly turned and shut it behind him.

“Vilgefortz.” Tissaia watched him jump as she said his name, her voice was authoritative.

“Tissaia. You are… “

“Alive? Walking? No longer bedridden or crippled?” She said as she tilted her head slightly and furrowed her brow at him. Slowly she began to pace towards him. The heel of her boot scraped along the ground, as it was difficult to lift her injured leg enough to prevent that. She tapped the metal tip of the cane with great force onto the stone as she walked, the sound echoed through the chamber.

“I’m glad to see that you are. Your leg seems to be healing nicely. I came here to check on you. To make sure that you are alright, since there was a fire,” the dark haired man said as he stood taller, clearly trying to use his towering height to intimidate her.

“If it were up to you,” she paused as she stopped several paces away from him and slammed the cane down hard before continuing. “I wouldn’t be standing at all.”

“That’s not true, I would never wish that.” He shifted somewhat nervously and his sword hand twitched slightly.

“Wouldn’t you though? You didn’t respond to Yennefer’s telepathic asks during the battle of Sodden Hill. You brought Coral back, then vanished. You avoided any outreach from the Chapter.” Tissaia looked up at him as she listed off her concerns, carefully watching his movements.

“And we saw you letting the Nilfgaardians in through a portal in the back of the greenhouse.” Coral suddenly spoke up from behind him. He had been completely oblivious to the fact that she, Yennefer and Sabrina had slipped between him and the door, barring his exit. Slowly, Triss emerged from the shadows as well.

Vilgefortz clenched his jaw and reached for his sword, making a move to attack Tissaia. The low light glinted off of his blade as he lunged towards her, but Tissaia activated the hidden feature of her cane with a simple command. The dark wood magically dissolved to reveal a blade gleaming even brighter and sharper than his. It was thin and elegant, fitting perfectly inside the cane. She deflected his attack and extended her left hand, casting a quick spell to push him back.

He staggered backwards with a look of shock at how much stronger she had become. Before he had any time to react further, Tissaia held him in place with a spell and plunged her blade into his chest. 

The sharp point cut effortlessly through his skin, muscle and bone as blood began to seep through his wound and spread across his gambeson. He choked and coughed. Spatters of blood flew from his mouth and decorated Tissaia’s face just slightly, which made her cringe. His eyes began to drift off and the horrid noises he was making slowed to a halt. The rectoress pulled her blade back out and released the spell holding him in place. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap and blood began to slowly pool on the stone floor beneath him.

Once she was satisfied that she had issued a mortal injury, Tissaia removed a handkerchief from a concealed pocket and cleaned her face with it. Then she wiped the blood off of her blade and threw the rag onto his lifeless body. With another command, the wood rematerialized once again around the blade. She began walking towards the door, slamming the tip down just a little less forcefully.

“I suppose that was the promised demonstration of its special feature,” Yennefer said as she and the others began to follow Tissaia out of the room, each stepping around the body and giving him a look of disgust as they did so.

“Yes piglet, that was your demonstration. Now there is a mess to clean up, which I am not yet ready to deal with.” The rectoress slowly dragged her leg along, limping as she exited her bedchambers. She would need to use it more often to get its strength back, and she resolved to to so.

Once they were all outside the room, Yennefer stopped and looked at the limp corpse who had just tried to destroy everything she loved. She felt a rage burning inside her and heard the crackling of the fire in the hearth. She channeled it’s chaos through herself and set his body alight with the flames of her anger, allowing them to consume him, then spread to the bed which she burned with just as much fury. All of the moments Tissaia had lingered on the border of life and death in that thing, knowing how confined it had made her feel. Not even the soft moments they had recently shared in it were enough to keep her from hating it. After she was satisfied with the damage she had done, she drew the flames back into her body and quenched them once again. 

“You burned the entirety of my bedroom, but you have clearly learned how to control and shape your chaos.” Tissaia frowned at her as they continued to walk just a bit behind Triss, Sabrina and Coral. She noticed the lingering glow of fire which remained in Yennefer’s eyes. Slowly they faded back to the violet color she had come to love.

“I’m sorry I burned your bedchamber,” Yennefer said with a guilty look. She didn’t even sound completely sarcastic. 

Tissaia simply hummed as she continued her course. She needed to check on the survivors as well as assess the damages. “How comfortable is your bed?”

Yennefer smiled softly at Tissaia. “Comfortable enough to sleep two.”

“Good. Also, you smell like smoke. Go bathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The potion that Tissaia gives to Yen is a real potion from the games. 
> 
> What is better than Tissaia with a cane? Tissaia with a CANE SWORD


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter full of soff, a little drama and a little folk dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sprinkles crumbs of Tissaia’s backstory over the fic* 
> 
> The rest will come, to quote Tissaia “in due time” :p 

Yennefer had always associated Tissaia with the cold. It was the way she taught her lessons and the way she talked to her students. She had always said to herself that Tissaia was ice, and she herself was fire. It wasn’t really true, of course. But she was only discovering the full extent of it now. 

They were lying beneath a thick cover, in one of the guest rooms that Yennefer occupied, since she had burned Tissaia’s bed in a fit of rage. Yennefer wasn’t strictly awake, but she drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She laid on her side, clinging tightly to Tissaia. The rectoress slept on her back. Yennefer’s nose was pressed against the ruff of her nightshirt, which ran down Tissaia’s front. Her feet, as curled up as she was, touched Tissaia’s knees, just above the little strings that closed her loose cotton trousers halfway down her shins. 

Unlike her sleepy lover, Tissaia was fully awake. 

She had been from the moment that Yennefer had snuggled up to her so tightly that her thick black hair was pressed into Tissaia’s face. It was in her nose and close to entering her mouth too. As endearing as she looked, with her mouth slightly opened and her head lying on Tissaia’s shoulder, the hair was irritating. The rectoress’ left arm was trapped underneath Yennefer’s prone body, so she resorted to prodding the woman’s left shoulder. That arm was wrapped around Tissaia’s entire body like a strangling vine. She hadn’t expected Yennefer to be so clingy, but she had to admit that the warmth of a body against hers, after so many decades without, was very pleasing. 

“Yennefer,” Tissaia whispered, with much less annoyance in her voice than she had intended. “Yennefer, your hair is suffocating me.” 

She had very nearly said ‘dear’, or ‘dearest’, or perhaps even ‘my love’. Her cheeks heated up at the realisation that any of those endearments could have spilled over her lips. Yennefer didn’t notice any of it, since she only took the continuous poking in her arm as an invitation to snuggle up even closer to Tissaia, pressing more hair into her face. 

Enough was enough, so Tissaia pushed Yennefer’s face off her shoulder with a hand against the younger mage’s cheek. She felt like she could breathe again, and held in a chuckle when Yennefer uttered an undignified sputtering noise as her head fell onto the mattress beside Tissaia. She hummed sleepily into the rectoress’ ribcage, which tickled. 

“ _Urgh_ … ‘s rude,” she mumbled with a thick voice. “First ‘t was Nilfgaard setting everything on fire… now it’s you pushing me off the bed.” 

“I am not pushing you off the bed, Yennefer,” Tissaia said with a sigh. “It’s ruder to choke me with your hair. What time is it?” 

Yennefer pushed herself up on an elbow, tucked some of her own hair behind her ear and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked like a mess, with her hair in every direction but the right one and a drowsy smile on her face. She also looked endearing, and Tissaia found her heart flare at the sight. It was odd, since she usually disliked looking at people who had just rolled out of bed. 

“Doesn’t matter, Tissaia. It’s time to still be in bed, with me,” Yennefer said as she laid down again, her hair now sprawled behind her on the bed, a respectful distance away from Tissaia’s face. 

The rectoress couldn’t help but put an arm around her, with her left arm now freed. She rubbed Yennefer’s hairline with her left hand, watching in awe as the younger mage closed her eyes and hummed, satisfied with the contact. Tissaia let out a long, deep breath as she still tried to get used to the soft body against hers. They had fallen asleep in an instant, the evening prior, exhausted after surveying the damage to the greenhouse and lower floor of Aretuza, talking to the staff and trying to calm everyone down. But, as always, there was work to be done for the rectoress. “I need to teach, Yennefer,” she murmured, moving her hand down to the juncture of Yennefer’s neck and shoulder, laying it on the warm skin there. “I must get up now.” 

Predictably, Yennefer protested, pressing back against Tissaia’s hand. “No, you mustn’t.” 

“Yennefer, the apprentices are-”   
  
“Having their lessons from Coral and Sabrina, at the moment. Botany and History of the Continent. I arranged it all yesterday evening.” The raven-haired sorceress grinned into Tissaia’s nightshirt. “It’s not far from noon, you know? We had some sleep to catch up to.” 

Tissaia hadn’t slept past midmorning in decades. She nearly jolted upright, if not for both the fact that Yennefer draped herself across her chest to prevent that and the fact that her leg ached the moment she tensed it. She hissed between her teeth and brought a hand down to the bandage around her left thigh, rubbing over it and pressing her head into the pillows. Momentarily closing her eyes, she was startled a little when Yennefer pressed the back of her hand against her brow. Tissaia opened her eyes and looked into Yennefer’s purple ones. The fever had gone away, but she still hummed concernedly. 

“See? No teaching until your leg isn’t hurting every morning anymore.” Yennefer sat upright, covering Tissaia with the blanket when she slipped out of the bed. She threw on a cream-coloured silken bathrobe that laid slung over a chair. Then she opened a portal with a wave of her arms and confidently stepped through it, calling out over her shoulder: “Stay put, I’ll get us breakfast.” 

“You can’t walk into the kitchens in nothing but a bathrobe! Yennefer!” Tissaia watched Yennefer disappear through the portal without an ounce of shame, knowing that the woman likely held none. Thus she could do nothing but lie back against the pillows, which she rearranged before letting herself rest onto them.

The urge to get out of bed was still gnawing at her, especially since she had been so confined to one as of late, but Yennefer’s sheets were just as soft as the pillows. They smelled of lilac and gooseberries and they were still warm with the heat of her body. Tissaia decided that she could stay here for just a bit longer while the raven haired woman returned with breakfast.

Her mouth quirked into a slight smile at that thought of Yennefer rushing off to retrieve something to eat for them, even as inappropriately as she had been dressed when she left. The smile remained at the fact that she had gone through great lengths to ensure that her lessons were covered and they could have this morning together. Whether they used it to lay entwined in each other’s arms or not. 

Tissaia felt something blooming in her chest everytime she thought about Yennefer, more so now that she was no longer riddled with crippling pain. It was much more manageable now that the dimeritium had been removed, and her body was able to accept healing magic once again. Although she knew she would need to use her leg and work the muscles and tendons frequently so she could gain its strength back, the task seemed less daunting when she thought about the people she had surrounding her.

Everything they had done for her to keep her alive had been nothing short of a miracle, and she could see that clearly now. Everything she had hoped to do in order to keep them safe had backfired. Slowly she closed her eyes and waited for Yennefer to return. Not to sleep, but to experience what it felt like to be calm and content for once in a lifetime. Just as she did, she heard a voice call out over telepathy, one she would recognize anywhere. It was Coral. She had made it a habit to grade papers over the lunch hour in Tissaia’s study, and had likely gotten word of Yennefer storming into the kitchens in a bathrobe.

“Vengerberg is getting you breakfast which should be lunch, how cute.”

~~~ 

Yennefer stepped into a kitchen which was buzzing with activity. The soles of her feet instantly reminded her that she should have taken a few moments to, at the very least, put on a pair of thick socks before venturing out of the comforts of her chambers.

The floor of Aretuza’s kitchen was _freezing_. It was a stark contrast to the guest room she was currently occupying, which had a thick fur rug covering a good portion of the cold stone floor. She had also continuously stoked the fire and added wood periodically throughout the night in order to keep Tissaia warm. Even with almost every wood burning oven fired up to cook for the entirety of Aretuza, it was nowhere near as warm as it was lying in bed next to Tissaia.

A nearby cook jumped at her sudden appearance through a portal and nearly dropped a tray filled with breakfast pastries. “You can’t… you can’t just do that!” The younger woman exasperated as Yennefer casually walked over to a bowl of freshly cut fruit and popped a grape into her mouth, savoring it’s sweet taste. The busyness in the kitchen seemed to slow to a crawl.

“I need breakfast for two,” Yennefer all but demanded as she picked up another grape and rolled it between her fingers looking for flaws before she ate it. The entirety of the kitchen was now watching her every move, for they all knew who she was.

Another woman approached and Yennefer recognized her as the head of the kitchen, for each time she had come here for a nourishing broth for Tissaia, the woman had been here. She felt slightly guilty over the fact that she had never asked her for her name before.

The woman dusted the flour off of her hands onto her apron and looked at Yennefer somewhat impatiently. “Well, what would you like?”

Yennefer opened her mouth but found that no words were there, for she honestly did not know what Tissaia enjoyed for breakfast. She strained her thoughts, trying to think back to any time she had seen her eating _anything_ , and she could think of none. What **_did_ **Tissaia like to eat?

“Something the rectoress would savour,” Yennefer responded.

The woman glanced over her shoulder and shouted something in Skelligen to her line cooks. Yennefer recognized one word as it loosely translated to something like ‘fish’.

“No, _not that!_ ” Yennefer shouted, almost dropping the grape. “I meant Tissaia, not Coral.” While there weren’t many intricate secrets she knew about Tissaia, she could ascertain with a great amount of certainty that she _would not_ enjoy fish for breakfast.

“Aye,” the woman said as she nodded at her before barking an order at her staff. “Pancakes and fruit with lemon vervain tea.”

Yennefer leaned up against the counter and continued to pick through the fruit bowl as she waited, trying not to eat so much that she would ruin her appetite. She couldn’t help but to ponder as she waited. What were some of the other things that Tissaia liked?

She had been gone for so long that she wasn’t even sure anymore. She knew she liked ale and good company on the eve before a battle. She knew that she did not like hair in her face first thing in the morning. She knew she wouldn’t like fish for breakfast, and that she liked fruit with pancakes and tea. What else was there to learn about her? Yennefer smiled at the challenge, for she knew that Tissaia was probably full of secrets in which she would love to decipher.

Year after year and decade after decade, she wanted to know them all. Just what was it that made Tissaia de Vries who she was today.

“Here, your breakfast is ready,” the senior kitchen attendant said with a gruff voice as she held out a tray for Yennefer. Hot pancakes with a side of fruit and two glasses of tea. Two little bowls of sweet cream and a small glass jar with honey. 

“Thank you,” Yennefer said as she ate a piece of melon before taking the tray and opening a portal back to her room. “What was your name again?”

The woman waved at her dismissively. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t remember it anyway.” 

While Yennefer knew she wasn’t wrong, she also knew it wasn’t right to forget about the people who kept the kitchens of Aretuza running. She resolved to make it up to them at one point in time.

Her guilt was forgotten the moment she stepped back into her room and was greeted by the sight of a resting Tissaia. Brown hair was splayed out across the pillow, and as difficult as it had been to imagine it fashioned any other way than the pristine bun, here they were. This was Tissaia being less restrained for her, even if it was simply the fact that they had slept in too late and Tissaia unraveled her hair.

“Are you going to stand there forever holding that tray? Or are we going to eat?” Tissaia said to her as she opened her eyes halfway and beamed at her. She slowly sat up, propping a pillow behind her back so she could rest comfortably against the head of the bed. 

Yennefer couldn’t tell how long she had been standing there observing Tissaia’s ethereal beauty, but her feet were getting cold standing on the stone floor and Tissaia was probably starving, so she stepped onto the rug warmed by the ambient heat of the room and placed the tray on the nightstand. Then she slipped back under the covers and put the tray in between them. She poured herself a glass of tea and observed her lover. 

She observed Tissaia as she stirred the honey through her tea, noting that she used a lot of it. The rectoress of Aretuza had a sweet tooth. How very interesting. She observed Tissaia, who delicately rolled a few pieces of fresh fruit into a pancake and cut it with the small silver knife and fork that had come with the tray. She had done it many times, evidently. She observed Tissaia as she savoured her breakfast, a barely there smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Yennefer nearly forgot to eat too, especially since Tissaia leaned against her and that sensation made her mind go blank for a few seconds. Decades of living in loneliness must have left Tissaia quite touch-starved, but Yennefer couldn’t have hoped for something like this. Such acceptance, and so soon. Tissaia didn’t verbalize anything, but that was to be expected. Yennefer would take all the non verbal affection that she could get, and she knew that the rest would come eventually too. 

Long after Tissaia had finished her breakfast and was leaning back into the pillows, Yennefer was still busy with hers. The relative silence in the room became a bit much for her, since it reminded her of the many hours spent in the quiet nights, the week prior. “What’s on your mind, Tissaia?” 

It took a bit of time before Tissaia answered. She frowned and looked at the blanket, fumbling with the edge for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she slowly said: “These circumstances… what we have now, together… it reminds me of this poem from my hometown.” 

The moment that the rectoress saw how Yennefer’s eyebrows rose and her eyes shone with curiosity, she knew that she had said far, far too much. 

“Your hometown? A romantic poem?” the younger sorceress prodded. “You never told me anything about a hometown, Tissaia.” A teasing grin spread over her features as she turned on her side and looked at Tissaia with big eyes. Her pupils were wide and Tissaia could look past that wide, sharp grin to spy some genuine curiosity. 

Tissaia pursed her lips for a minute, contemplating if she should give Yennefer any other information than the strictly necessary. She never spoke about where she came from before Aretuza. Not to anyone, for she preferred to keep that hidden. Her past was her own secret, par for the few people who knew about it, but kept silent in fear of her wrath. She was the rectoress of Aretuza, and as far as anyone on the Continent was concerned, she had always been. 

But not to Yennefer. Not anymore. 

“Cidaris,” she whispered, because she didn’t completely trust her own voice when speaking about such matters. “My hometown was Cidaris.” 

Yennefer snuggled closer to her, pressing her head against Tissaia’s left arm until it was lifted and settled on Yennefer’s back. “The harbour? Place full of merchants and sailors? I’d never have guessed.” 

“I wasn’t from the city itself, rather from a… a house in the countryside around it.” Tissaia bit her lip as she remembered the De Vries manor, when it had still stood tall. A fancy prison for a girl who hadn’t set a foot outside it until her seventh year. “I came from a family of merchants, if you must know.” 

_Enough,_ something in her mind said. _Enough, before you lose control._ She had guarded her secrets closely for so long and yet there was also a part of her that wanted to tell Yennefer everything. But she couldn’t, simply because she felt as if everything would happen much too soon and much too fast if she did so. And Yennefer had promised her patience, despite the many questions were visible in the look in her eyes. The breathing, the soft up and down of Yennefer’s ribs against her arm, was soothing. Grounding, too. 

Her purple eyes now filled with slight concern, Yennefer rested her hand on Tissaia’s stomach under the blanket, where she could feel the bandaged wound under Tissaia’s nightshirt. “A merchant family?” she tried, not quite knowing how far Tissaia would go, or if she was completely alright with telling her about her youth. 

“Not at the moment, Yennefer,” Tissaia said as she brought her mind back out of the past, stroking softly over Yennefer’s back. “I promise I will tell you… everything. But in due time.” 

“ _Hmm,_ alright. I will keep you to that. How about that poem, though?” 

After giving Yennefer a final pat on her back, Tissaia drew herself up fully, so she wasn’t slumped against the pillows anymore. As the sorceress beside her made herself comfortable underneath the blankets again, the rectoress stretched her shoulders, to release the tension in them. Her eyes flitted around the chamber, seeking a point where she could focus on. But no matter what she tried, she only found herself searching for Yennefer’s violet eyes. She supposed it was only fitting, given what she was about to recite. “It’s a traditional lover’s rhyme from Cidaris, usually written on parchment, tied with a green ribbon and delivered to your love interest’s door with a seashell inside the scroll. Or it’s sung when the tide is at its highest, beneath your lover’s window.” 

Tissaia very nearly brought a hand up to cup Yennefer’s cheek, but refrained at the last moment, composing herself and folding her hands above the blankets. 

_“My lover is a foreign sea_

_In which I'd gladly drown_

_Or the horizon which I see_

_Wearing heaven's crown_

_My dearest, won't you come with me_

_By dawn, we'll sail away_

_Oh fair one, heed my lover's plea_

_Sung as the tides sway”_

Yennefer gazed into Tissaia’s blue eyes and could not recall a time when they had looked as honest as they did now. The words she wanted to say in response sat heavily on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell her how no one had ever recited poetry to her, that she would give anything to hear her say those words again, and how she would gladly sail anywhere with her if it meant they could be together. Not wanting to overwhelm Tissaia, who had struggled even just to give her this, she let out the breath she had been holding in and reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Tissaia, that was beautiful.” She smiled as she placed a soft kiss on her shoulder before she rested her head there as well. 

~~~

Once they had finally finished lazing around in bed, something that Yennefer still couldn’t believe she had convinced Tissaia to do, they decided it was time to visit the apprentices who had been injured in the Nilfgaardian attack.

Tissaia was insistent that they would walk to the medical ward, as opposed to taking a portal, in order to strengthen her leg. Usually Yennefer much preferred the faster method of travel as opposed to trudging along by foot, but she knew the rectoress was correct. Aside from that, walking next to Tissaia was enjoyable, as she had seen too much of her in such a sickly state. The sound of her cane sharply tapping against the ground as they made their way through the halls was intimidating and Yennefer chuckled to herself as a few young students hurried past them, avoiding eye contact as if their lives depended on it.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you are doing that on purpose to frighten people,” she said as she closely watched the extra force with which she exerted _unnecessarily,_ with the cane. 

Tissaia smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Then it is a good thing you know better, piglet.”

“I suppose it is…” Yennefer replied somewhat playfully before changing to a more serious tone. “During the invasion, one of the younger apprentices had a-”

“A conduit moment,” Tissaia finished with the authority of the Rectoress in her voice. “Yes, I felt it. It was powerful, almost as powerful as yours.”

The raven haired sorceress hummed. “Seems like she doesn’t have the magical talent of shoe leather after all. She was rather frightened by it, though. I practically had to peel her off of me, she latched on so tightly.”

“They most often are frightening when they are laced with that much chaotic energy and no knowledge on how to control it. Which is why it is important she has additional mentoring outside of the classroom,” Tissaia said as she looked towards Yennefer before adding, “I want you to tutor her as well.”

“You want **_me_ ** to teach her? ” Yennefer gasped, hardly able to comprehend what she had just heard. “Now I know you have truly gone mad.”

“Don’t be dramatic. The girl is emotional and will need additional work to learn to control her chaos, I’m sure you recall what that felt like.” The rectoress nearly wanted to add that _she_ herself recalled what it was like trying to navigate her way through powers which she did not understand. Out of habit she reached for the pendant to feel its heavy weight in her hand, something she had done frequently when it had first been passed to her, but of course it was not there.

Suddenly she winced as a shooting pain traveled up her leg and her muscle began to cramp. She leaned against her cane and took a moment to lift the leg slightly to take the pressure off of it and massaged it for a few moments to ease some of the tension.

“Are you alright?” Yennefer asked as she reached to help support her, only to be swatted away by Tissaia’s free hand.

“I’m fine, it will just take time to get back to normal and I need to learn to do this on my own. Just give me a few moments first,” the rectoress said, letting out a steady breath before standing upright and continuing to the medical ward.

Once inside, Yennefer felt her stomach twist into a knot. It was too raw, the memory of being here just after Sodden. She looked away from the bed which Tissaia had first laid in, which was fortunately empty. The atmosphere wasn’t quite as panicked and they were both relieved to notice that the injuries seemed minimal, thanks to Coral escorting everyone to safety before things became intense.

Triss approached with a warm smile and a healing potion in her hand, breaking them both from their thoughts. “Tissaia, it is good to see you up again…” she said, trailing off for she knew the rectoress would not want her to bring any light to the fact that it was well into the afternoon _and_ she had stayed in bed all day with Yennefer. 

Answering with a slight inclination of her head, before she cast her eyes to the ground, Tissaia asked a question which she dreaded hearing the answer to. “Were there any casualties?”

“There were a few. All in the botany class that was interrupted when Nilfgaard opened the portal in the greenhouse. Sabrina is preparing them for their parting ceremony now and we have notified their families,” Triss replied morosely. “Most of the people here now have already been treated and are set to be released soon. Inhaling too much smoke was mostly the cause, but Glacella still seems a bit shaken. She had an injury to her upper arm, which I was able to treat without complications. I’ve kept her here to try to calm her down.”

Tissaia looked towards the young student. Her hands were clenched tightly in the bed sheets, which she had pulled to her chin. Her knees were folded up to her chest and she did in fact look terrified. The rectoress walked over to the shaken apprentice with a slightly unsteady gait and sat in the chair beside the bed. Yennefer noticed how she lessened the intimidating cane sounds and attributed it to her not wanting to frighten the youth anymore than she already was.

“Rectoress… I… something happened to me, during the invasion. I was being chased, and one of them hurt me, I felt this powerful sensation and then I’m not sure what happened, but I think I did something wrong. I couldn’t control the magic and then there were… there were dead soldiers everywhere,” Glacella said with a shaky voice as she nervously fiddled with the edge of the blanket, which she had lowered slightly to speak clearly. Soon she dropped it entirely and clutched at her arm instead.

“What you experienced was your conduit moment, and those soldiers were enemies of Aretuza. You did nothing wrong in dispatching them, but there are dangers to using magic. Especially when those forces are as powerful as the kind you used to defend yourself. The lessons ahead of you will be difficult, and they will be harsh, but they are a _necessity_. Otherwise you will lose yourself to the chaos.” Tissaia’s tone was firm and sharp as she spoke to the girl. It was a tone which Yennefer had recognized from her own lessons in the past.

“So you aren’t going to kick me out of the academy?” Glacella asked as she allowed her hand to fall away from the bandaged wound on her arm, seemingly able to relax now that she didn’t appear to be in any trouble.

Tissaia stood, pulling herself up from the chair with the assistance of her cane and gesturing for Yennefer to sit. “No child, you are not being expelled from the academy. You are going to be taught how to control your emotions and redirect your chaos. Yennefer will help you to understand how. Be wary of listening to everything she says, however.”

Yennefer’s eyebrows shot up slightly in mock surprise as Tissaia walked off to speak with some of the other injured apprentices. Even with as harsh as she had just been, she could see how the rectoress cared for every one of her students.

“She’s right, I don’t always listen to her,” she quietly whispered to Glacella with a smirk, drawing a hesitant laugh from the young girl.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Glacella cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Hesitatingly, she asked the question Yennefer could see had been churning about in her mind since the moment she sat down. “Everyone heard what you did, with the fire and how you put it out by pulling it into your body. That you saved Aretuza from burning down. What did it feel like?”

Yennefer thought back to a pain which was so blinding she could hardly keep her focus or her control. There were moments when she felt as if she was going to be utterly consumed by it, so fiercely that there would have been nothing left of her but a few ashes floating about. She didn’t want to terrify the girl just yet, so she went with the easy answer. “It hurt like hell.”

“C-can you teach me that?” Glacella softly asked, too timid to meet Yennefer’s eyes for a few moments, threading the hand of her uninjured arm through her reddish hair. 

Fire manipulation was the last thing that was on Yennefer’s mind in terms of what she would try to teach Glacella, now that Tissaia had stuck them together. She laughed and leaned on the mattress with an arm. “Get through a few years of study here, then we’ll see about teaching you anything in that direction.” 

Yennefer was relieved when a thin smile spread over Glacella’s face as the girl nodded. “How many years do I need to study here, then?” she inquired. 

“A decade is the usual timeframe. Don’t worry about getting old and grey, we don’t age anymore after ascending. Plenty of time to -” Yennefer quickly glanced at Tissaia, who was talking with Triss. The coast was clear, so she stiffened her back and tilted her chin up, doing her best impression of the rectoress. “- _learn how to control your chaos_ , as Grandmistress broom-up-the-ass de Vries says.” 

Glacella started to laugh, a full-bellied laugh that was so intense that she had to stop to catch her breath after a while. In return, Yennefer gave her a wide grin. Finally, the girl relaxed completely, no longer so terribly tense and nervous. Yennefer resolved to herself that she would teach her well, if only to prevent the girl from making the same mistakes that she did. As Glacella still giggled, her two friends appeared in the door opening to the medical ward, eyeing Yennefer as she stood up to give Fola and Murta some room by the bed. 

She joined Tissaia and Coral, who had also appeared on the doorstep. Both women cast a look at the three young apprentices, with Coral chuckling and saying: “Reminds me of something, Tissaia. Something in our past. Different group of three idiots.” She quirked her eyebrows and grinned when Tissaia firmly shook her head. 

Before the question that Yennefer had in her mind could spill over her lips, Tissaia said: “Not now, Yennefer. I will tell you in the evening, _in private_.” With a poignant look towards Coral, a silent warning not to elaborate on the apparent secret, she continued: “I will give the lesson in advanced alchemy now. I trust you two won’t stir up any more trouble than you usually already do.” 

Using her cane to push Coral’s leg out of her path, Tissaia walked down the corridor as quickly as her limp allowed, her uneven footsteps slowly fading. With a last grin at Yennefer, Coral went the other way, undoubtedly also on her way to a lesson. 

“Coral, wait!” Yennefer called out to her, drawing an odd look from the red haired woman. “Your contact in Aedirn, would you share that with me? I need to have something constructed as well.”

The other woman drew up her eyebrows inquisitively, but refrained from asking any questions. Then she simply nodded her head and continued her path, shouting back at her as she sauntered off. “I’ll leave you a note with their location in the evening. Want to order something for Tissaia, do ya?”

“No!” Yennefer cried out as the other sorceress disappeared from sight. She huffed and sighed deeply. She’d never be able to put a stop to Coral’s antics. 

Despite that, she was very much looking forward to the evening, eager to know more about Tissaia’s past. For the few hours between that moment and now, she had to entertain herself. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea to read some more books on Nilfgaard, given that she had never considered it worth any effort until the empire had very nearly taken her life. Thus she started in the direction of the library, steadily walking through the hallways until something caught her eye. 

One of the older apprentices was coming from the opposite direction, yet that wasn’t what had peaked Yennefer’s attention. Slung over her shoulder was a large net, nothing that Yennefer had seen in Aretuza before. She walked up in front of the girl, blocking her path, and asked: “Where are you going? And what’s that net for?” 

In return, she got both a dark look and a few seconds of silence, before the girl yielded and softly said in a hushed whisper: "Coral said to check the pool for dead eels. A lot of Aretuza’s defensive spells were triggered during the invasion. They’re… linked to the conduits." 

Before she could finish her sentence, Yennefer had snatched the net from her, telling her that she’d do it herself. Elated that the battle had finally stopped, she hadn’t even paused a moment to think about the eels. Now, she found herself running down the hallways, down the spiralling stone stairs that were hewn from the dark stone on which Aretuza was built, until she slipped to a halt by the pool. There they swam, those who hadn’t ascended. But whose energy had been spent in the attack? As Yennefer gazed at the sparkling surface of the pool, where many eels shimmied through the water, she realized the truth. 

_There was no way she could know._

It could have been any one of the students she had watched Tissaia transform, then shove into the clouded water. It could have been Anica, the one she had pushed into the pond herself after being instructed to do so by Tissaia. She was the one who had remained quiet when Yennefer tried to lie to Tissaia about a fear of snakes which Anica _did not_ have, during their initial telepathy lessons.

Her emotions flared at the thought of it and for a fleeting second she recalled just how much anger she had harbored towards the rectoress at that time, after not only having witnessed her fellow pupils being changed into mindless creatures of the deep, but being forced to be a part of it as well.

The stench of dead fish was almost unbearable. For a moment, Yennefer thought to search her mind for a spell which might take the odour of decomposition and bloat away. The moment she found the proper incantation which had been tucked away for longer than she could recall, she stopped. The eels which floated lifelessly on the surface of the water had once been people and Yennefer could not find it in herself to cover that fact with magic simply because they smelled. They deserved to be remembered as they had given all. Each dead eel in this pond represented a defensive ward which had been triggered during the invasion, its energy expended to protect the greater good.

No, Yennefer was not going to allow herself to forget that fact as she steadied herself next to the ledge and reached with the net to the lifeless form which bobbed about in the magically infused water. She strained and clenched her teeth as she reached for the nearby corpse with the net, but the rocky platform was just as slick as it had ever been and she found herself nearly falling into the water with them as she slipped and landed on her stomach. Her head dangled over the ledge and her arm hovered over the water. 

She felt the hum of magic radiating from its surface and dipped her finger into the water, pondering just how much energy had leached out of the eels and into the liquid. Surely it was enough to destroy Aretuza and leave the lands barren, should it be released collectively for whatever reason.

Ripples began to form as a beast emerged and Yennefer sucked in a breath as the creature grazed her hand gently, disappearing beneath the water before coming back up once again and encircling her wrist. The markings looked familiar and the sorceress hoped more than anything that this was her lost friend coming to greet her. And so, Yennefer held open her hand.

The eel seemed to inspect each finger closely before its attention shifted to an insect which had attempted to land on the surface of the water. With a quick movement and a splash, both the insect and the eel were gone. Yennefer felt her smile slowly fade as she accepted reality, as these were the students who were never meant to ascend.

One by one, she pulled them from the pond with the net. She hardly spared a second glance as she exited the chamber with no fewer than ten deceased conduits in her net.

She walked onto the island of Thanedd, following a small path down to one of the sandy beaches, hidden amongst the cliffs. The waves rolled in and covered her feet. The water was near freezing, but she hardly noticed as she stumbled over rocks buried halfway into the sand, watching as several small crabs scurried out of her way, until she found a place she considered suitable enough to be a burial ground. With a heavy heart, Yennefer dug into the sand with her hands for hours, creating a separate grave for each of them. She was forced to start over and move inland once high tide came in and washed away her efforts.

Once the last of the conduits had finally been buried, Yennefer opened a portal to her room and stepped through, utterly exhausted. Hardly paying any mind to Tissaia, who seemed to be pacing about the room in an effort to exercise her leg, she flopped onto a chair in the corner of the room and took a deep breath while closing her eyes.

“You stink of dead fish, piglet. You should take a bath.”

Yennefer huffed as she only leaned back farther into the chair. “I had to remove the dead eels from the pond. It would have been cruel to the other living eels to leave them in there.”

“That is a duty which belongs to the Rectoress, it is not a duty I enjoy,” Tissaia said almost compassionately as she stood still, looking at Yennefer and waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did not do so, she demanded it.

“Look at me, Yennefer.”

Slowly discs of violet formed a connection with her and Tissaia stepped closer to her. The pain in her leg wasn’t as intense as it had been before and so she was able to close the distance rather quickly.

“Anica was in there still,” the raven haired sorceress explained.

“No, Yennefer. Anica was not in there. Anica has never been in there,” Tissaia replied coldly.

“She came up to me, I felt her swimming around my hand.”

Tissaia shook her head and limped over to the edge of the bed, resting her cane agaist the wall as she took a seat and dusted off her already immaculate dress. “Once I have cast the spell, they lose any and all semblance of humanity. They cannot feel or think the same things that we do. They are just eels. More than likely, that particular eel was just hungry and was hoping that your hand was a meal. You need to understand that I only do that to keep the dangerous ones from ascending. Those who don’t have the necessary control over their inner chaos. Fringilla should have been in that pond, but she wasn’t and that is my fault. Only I am to blame for that.”

Yennefer felt her anger and frustration subside, for Tissaia was right. If Fringilla had ended up in that pond, she wouldn’t have cared. Perhaps the entirety of those waters were filled with eels which would have turned out to be just like Fringilla, if not worse. 

“I had dinner brought to my chambers, for two,” Tissaia said as she stood up and picked up her cane. “When you have washed and dressed anew, I would like for you to share it with me.” 

Yennefer let out a short chuckle as she made her way into the bathroom to rinse the smell of dead fish away and put on clean clothes. _‘I would like for you to share it with me_ ’ was such a Tissaia way to ask her to have a nice dinner together. As she let the tub fill with hot water, she heard Tissaia close the door of the guestroom, her uneven footsteps fading down the hallway. 

They really had to start refurbishing the rectoress’ own bedchambers. 

~~~

“We need a bigger bed,” Yennefer said, as she stood with Tissaia in the study, looking through the door of the bedchamber. The damage from the fire she had set loose in it had been repaired and restored, but the place where Tissaia’s bed had once stood was still empty. New floorboards had been put in place, with slightly newer paint than the ones around them. 

“Your tastes are more lavish than mine, Yennefer.” Tissaia slowly shook her head. “We easily fit into the old one. What did you have in mind?” 

“Well, _the old one_ , as you call it, was a four-poster bed. Are my tastes really more lavish, then?” 

“The old one was a gift, Yennefer,” the rectoress said as she turned dramatically to face her for a moment, before turning to look at the empty space in question. Her facial expression eluded to the face that even she recognized that this was an odd thing to say.

“Who would give you a bed as a gift?” Yennefer asked in bewilderment. She didn’t know anyone who was so close to Tissaia to give her something like that. Except perhaps Coral, but she had been in isolation for eighteen years prior to Sodden, so it couldn’t have been her.

Tissaia uttered a deep, very deep sigh. “Someone by the name of Philippa Eilhart,” she murmured, suddenly seeming to have gained an intense interest in the wooden floorboards. “She said to me that I needed ‘two people to make good use of it.’” 

“And did you?”

“Did I what?” Tissaia asked sharply.

“Did you make good use of it?” Yennefer asked with a smirk as she nudged her slightly with her elbow.

Tissaia swatted her elbow away and flashed her an indignant look. “Well, I slept in it since the day I received it, so yes, piglet, I believe I made good use of it.”

She wanted to prod the rectoress some more but she also didn’t want to push her too far. It sounded as if Tissaia had spent several lonely nights in that bed, and she didn’t want to make her feel bad about it. Yennefer was certain she had her reasons for that, but she was also certain that she could make it up to her.

“Something smells good,” she said, trying to distract the both of them from the bed situation.

Tissaia flashed a smile quickly and turned from Yennefer, but beckoning her to follow with a wave of her hand as she headed over to a small table in her study. On the table was a covered tray made of silver. There was a buildup of moisture along the top of it, and Yennefer could see the steam emanating from from the gap in the middle. Next to the tray stood two long-stemmed crystal glasses and a bottle of red wine. The rectoress uncorked the bottle and poured a conservative amount of crimson liquid into each of the glasses.

“It’s honey roasted quail with vegetables and sweet rolls,” Tissaia said as she lifted the cover and allowed the steam and the scent to waft into the room. Yennefer’s mouth started to water as she saw the crisp skin of the roasted bird, which was perfectly cut into wings, legs, the two sides of the breast and the back. Naturally, Tissaia wanted nothing less than perfect order, even when it came to her meals. That, and she likely wanted to avoid getting grease on her clothing when cutting the bird herself. 

She looked on as the rectoress seated herself, daintily lifting her dress when she sat down. When Yennefer sat as well, leaning her elbows on the table in a kind of small defiance against Tissaia’s picture perfect posture, she asked: “What was it that you were going to tell me? Something about the three idiots that Coral mentioned?” 

Tissaia looked intently at a bite of quail on the end of her fork for a few moments, before putting it down and sighing. She knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this without giving away a little secret. “Coral was referring to herself, Philippa, who gave me the bed, and… and me. When we were students, in Aretuza.” 

Yennefer started to laugh, hastily swallowing the bite she had in her mouth to prevent choking in it. She could hardly imagine Tissaia as a student, let alone someone who could be classified as an idiot. Her curiosity to know the reason sparked with each word that Tissaia said. “Why? What kind of mischief did you get up to when you were younger?” 

“It was mostly Coral and Philippa who got into a lot of trouble… sometimes, no, _often_ dragging me with them. Eating entire meals in the library, sneaking to the towers in the middle of the night… those sorts of things.” Tissaia brought a hand to her lower left arm and rubbed over the length of it, frowning deeply. “Believe me, Yennefer, if you have woken up with a snowy owl next to your head in the dead of night and a madly giggling Skelligen girl on the other side of the dormitory, you would call them idiots too.” 

A tiny smile played around Tissaia’s lips, telling Yennefer that the rectoress cherished the memories much more than she let on. 

“It’s your turn now, Yennefer,” Tissaia said, the smile not entirely fading away. “Tell me a secret in return for the things you’ve wrangled out of me today.” 

Yennefer set down her fork, the metal clinked quietly against the edge of the plate. She reached for a sweet roll and examined it carefully as she tore a piece from it and popped it into her mouth. Humming quietly as she pondered for a few moments while she chewed. “I have encountered a dragon with scales of gold.”

Tissaia raised her eyebrows as she brought her glass filled with the mild red wine to her lips. “A golden dragon, aren’t those quite rare?” she asked.

“Very. In fact, it wasn’t even a golden dragon we were after, but a green one,” Yennefer said as she watched Tissaia swallow the contents of her glass then set it down carefully, picking up her fork once again and spearing a pepper with it.

“And what did you do with this golden dragon?” Tissaia asked as she shared her glances between both Yennefer and her dinner. As with most things she said, the question appeared to be a test of sorts. 

“We defended the egg it had helped to create, its mate had died and it had been attacking the countryside in order to deter anyone from getting too close to the most valuable treasure of all. Admittedly, my reasons for pursuing the beast were selfish at first, but I found that I couldn’t allow the dragon, nor its future legacy, to be injured or killed,” Yennefer said as she tried to catch one of Tissaia’s passing glimpses. Finally, she was successful and she relished the beautiful color of her blue eyes and the slight smile which quirked along the edge of her lips.

“I believe you,” Tissaia responded with a soft laugh, as she held the gaze momentarily, then lifted the cloth napkin she had placed across her lap and dabbed the corner of her mouth with it. “I suppose it is my turn now.”

Yennefer finished her roll and reached for her own glass, tossing back its contents much more quickly than Tissaia. She noted how mild it was and wasn’t at all surprised that Tissaia would favor a wine with a very low alcohol content. It was truly meant to simply compliment the meal. Which was just fine with her, as the real highlight of the evening was the fact that Tissaia was opening up to her.

“I have never lain with a man before,” Tissaia said, very matter-of-factly.

The raven haired sorceress found herself almost spilling the wine as she made a move to refill both her own glass and Tissaia’s. The shock of what she had just said wasn’t surprising, but it was unexpected. Yennefer smirked as she responded. “Well, trust me when I say this… you aren’t missing out on _anything._ ”

Tissaia’s rigid exterior softened just a bit and she pushed her plate forward, favoring the contents of her glass instead. She didn’t drink it nearly as much as she admired it, holding the vessel at an angle and then gently spinning the liquid around, allowing the droplets to run down the sides as she observed them. 

For a while, both of them sat together in some sort of comforting silence which was accentuated by a smile here, and a gentle brush of their hands there. Finally, Tissaia spoke up once again.

“I missed the lightning.”

Yennefer frowned slightly, not quite understanding just what it was Tissaia actually meant by that. “You… missed the what?”

“Yes, at Tor Lara, during my initial trial. I couldn’t catch the lightning in the bottle and I was thrown across the chamber much like you were. Worse, actually… for I hit the wall and received a nasty electrical scar from the ordeal.”

“Were you alright?” Yennefer felt the concern in her voice, even though she knew that this event had happened long ago and Tissaia had since healed, the thought of her being injured triggered some sort of protectiveness.

“I was shaken up, but I had two very concerned friends watching over me that night. Worrying over me, just like you did.” Tissaia made a diagonal movement with her hand over her stomach, indicating the wound that was healing there. 

“Two of the three idiots?” Yennefer chuckled.

Tissaia’s eyes shifted downwards, and Yennefer suddenly realized that while Coral had barely survived the battle of Sodden, Philippa Eilhart was still nowhere to be found. It was clearly weighing deeply on the rectoress’ mind.

“Did you have the scar removed, once you ascended? I don’t remember seeing it when I… kissed you on your shoulder.”

“I did. It was a lightning-shaped scar, which ran down my neck and my back. I started wearing high collar dresses to help conceal it until my ascension. I also favoured changing my natural hair color from blonde to brunette,” the rectoress explained.

“You were _blonde_?!” Yennefer exclaimed. She made no attempt to hide her shock.

Tissaia cleared her throat before responding and rested her hand on the table. “Yes, I wanted a change.”

Yennefer reached for her hand as she smiled, running the tip of her thumb gently across Tissaia’s thumbnail. She noted each ridge and felt a warmth bloom in her chest as she watched the other woman’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment. Even just this small amount of contact had a powerful effect on the rectoress. Aside from that, she had admitted a weakness to her which meant that Tissaia de Vries _was not_ infallible, and Yennefer was more than accepting of that.

“We should see Coral now. I must get my pendant back before she decides she doesn’t want to part with it anymore,” Tissaia said as she squeezed Yennefer’s hand before letting go and standing up. She waved her hand nearly carelessly at their empty plates and the silver dish with the remnants of the quail, sending it back to the kitchens with a surge of magic. “She should be in the mess hall, with the rest of the students.” 

And she was. Coral sat at one of the long tables, which was nearly empty of students. The ones that had stayed after dinner were watching their interim rectoress intently, because she was in a fierce arm-wrestling match with Sabrina. Several students were cheering her on, others were chanting the blonde’s name. Yennefer spotted Glacella, Fola and Murta amongst them. Some sat on the table, though they immediately scurried down to the benches once Tissaia and Yennefer entered the room. 

“What is going on here?” Tissaia asked in her sternest voice.

While Murta shrunk back and looked away, Glacella nervously shifted her feet about and tucked her hands behind her back. Fola, who hadn’t skittered off, stepped forward and was courageous enough to answer the question which Tissaia had demanded to know the answer to.

“Coral challenged Lady Sabrina to an arm wrestling match. She said she was going to mop the floor up with her. Whatever _that_ means,” the young girl with the burn scar on her face stated as she watched intently. Tissaia noticed how her expression was not one which seemed to take enjoyment in the display. Rather, it appeared as if she were concerned that one of them might injure themselves.

Tissaia hummed thoughtfully. “It means she thinks she is going to win, but it appears she might be wrong.”

Sabrina and Coral were locked in place, with the archer having just a bit of an edge over the red haired woman. While Coral gritted her teeth and allowed a slew of Skellige curses to fall from her lips, Sabrina flared her nostrils and widened her eyes as she pushed the other woman’s arm down just a bit further.

“I think she’s going to win,” Murta said quietly as she nudged Glacella and pointed towards Sabrina.

The other apprentice scoffed and tucked a lock of her long red hair behind her ear. “There is no way she’ll win, the rector- eh, Coral has a mechanical arm. She won’t be able to compete with that.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Murta replied, wincing when Glacella elbowed her in the ribs, looking towards Tissaia as she did so, although she was giggling. They knew that Tissaia didn’t allow such language. “Don’t worry, she’s not even paying attention to us right now. Look, she’s too busy making eyes at Yen.”

“She’s not making eyes at Yennefer. She’s just trying to pretend like she doesn’t care about this arm wrestling match at the moment,” Fola responded, making certain she kept her voice low.

“She **_is_ **making eyes at Yennefer, just look at the way she’s leaning in towards her and pointing at Coral. I noticed it when I was in the medical ward as well. And she does care about this match. I bet they are voting for the Skelligen to win.” Glacella smiled at her friends as they continued to watch the match.

Fola stepped up and smacked the both of her friends lightly on the back of the head. “It doesn’t matter who is making eyes at whom, nor does it matter who wins. Someone could get hurt here.”

Murta, who was now rubbing the back of her head, cast a scorned look towards Fola over her shoulder. “A little ironic to say something like that, don’t you think?”

“Quiet down and watch,” Yennefer’s voice rang out unexpectedly, causing all three of them to grow silent as Coral began to gain the upper hand.

The shouting in the room increased until suddenly Sabrina applied a burst of strength she had been holding back and slammed the metal hand onto the table, wasting no time standing up and celebrating the victory.

“I’m still getting used to it!” Coral shouted at her as Sabrina walked away.

Sabrina laughed as she gathered her dinner tray, still filled with food enough for two people. “You fought through an entire invasion with it just fine, don’t make excuses. I’m going to enjoy dinner with my wife now, and tell her that I won.”

Before Coral could retort, Tissaia’s sharp voice cut through the excitement. “Am I going to have to make a rule? No arm wrestling matches in the mess hall. You left an indentation in the table.”

Indeed, three of Coral’s metal knuckles had left pits in the wood, where Sabrina had slammed her hand down. Coral didn’t seem to care a lot, since she raised her eyebrows and shortly laughed. “These tables are old, Tiss. Pretty sure you haven’t replaced them after De Winter died. What’s a few dents in them?” 

“Damage that could have been prevented,” Tissaia said as she stared Coral down, though she had to stop with that once the Skelligen mage stood up and towered above her. Tissaia’s head just about reached her shoulders and the rectoress quickly stepped back to avoid appearing especially small. “I believe you have something of mine.” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s true. It’s funny how light it got after you stopped dying.” Coral thumbed the pendant briefly before taking off the chain and holding it in her metal hand. Then a cheeky smirk appeared on her face and she pinched the chain in between her thumbs and pointer fingers. Before Tissaia could step backwards further, Coral elegantly draped the chain over her head, bending down a little. She reached for the pendant with her good hand, wanting to align it perfectly on Tissaia’s chest, but was stopped when the golden top of the rectoress’ cane pushed her hand away. 

Tissaia held the cane in the middle of its length, putting some distance between herself and Coral, before she could be humiliated any further. “Do not do that in front of my students,” she hissed. 

Next to them, Yennefer started to laugh. Slowly but surely, she could see the two of them as a pair of idiots in their student times. 

“I need to prepare some things for tomorrow’s lesson,” Tissaia said as she slowly turned to the double doors of the hall. “Given that the botany classes have to be taught in a different location now, since the greenhouse is still in ruins.” 

Her expression softened significantly from the glare she was still aiming at Coral. “I will see you later, Yennefer.” 

When she fully turned to leave, Coral suddenly said: “Wait, Tissaia. I wanted to ask you something.” There was an uncertainty in her voice that didn’t seem very befitting of her, nor was it something that Yennefer had heard before. She lowered her voice to a whisper as she stepped closer to Tissaia, who was now frowning slightly in concern. “Can I… stay here? At Aretuza? I’ll try to stay out of your hair as much as I can. It’s just… I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I’m banned from Kerack, after, you know - what happened there. I don’t want to go back to Skellige and live there in isolation again. Tissaia, I -” 

“It’s alright, Astrid,” Tissaia softly replied. She brought her hand up to Coral’s left arm and squeezed softly, as the taller mage rapidly blinked a few times, her eyes a bit watery. “As long as you teach the lower years, make yourself useful and don’t pester me too often.” 

Yennefer had to strain her ears to catch everything that Tissaia said, and even then she missed Coral’s reply. She did hear that the Skelligen mage sighed in relief and nodded slowly as she stepped away from Tissaia, who released her arm. It was a touching moment between them, and Yennefer found herself smiling. 

“Good luck shovelling dirt and moving plants, Tiss!” Coral called after Tissaia, as the rectoress continued to ignore her when she walked away. Then the redhead turned to the dozen or so students that still lingered in the mess hall. “You should go to bed,” she told them. “Be smarter than me of a few centuries ago, don’t stay up past midnight. Especially not when being taught by _her_ tomorrow morning.”

A phrase about a broom in a private place came to mind for Yennefer, but she didn’t say it out loud. Not again. Tissaia had already had enough of an unusual day. No need to print that phrase into the heads of her students. 

“Good night, Yennefer,” Glacella timidly said as she walked past her, before stopping and taking a deep breath. “Are you… are you together now, with the rectoress? Fola and Murta keep saying you are, but they’re too scared to ask!” 

“I suppose we are,” Yennefer replied, arching her brow with a soft chuckle. As she stood alongside Coral and watched the girls leave the hall, she turned to the older mage. “Tissaia told me she used to have blonde hair, before her ascension. I can’t really imagine her with that. But I think you still remember it, don’t you?” 

“ _Mhmm_ , it really did look different. Her eyes seemed a lot bigger with the blonde hair. Then again, her entire family had it. No wonder she wanted to be different from them,” Coral said as she smiled softly, no doubt deep in the memories of her past. Then she started laughing, leaning on the table with her metal hand as she chuckled. “Has she told you about the folk dancing too, then?” 

Yennefer didn’t even bother to stifle her own bout of laughter as she uttered: “The _what_?” 

“Folk dancing!” Coral exclaimed, bringing her hand up to Yennefer’s shoulder and patting on it a few times in an attempt to stop her own giggling, so she could catch her breath. “Tissaia is very good at it. Not that it really fits the whole rectoress attitude… but you should poke her up about it.” 

~~~

Yennefer did in fact ask Tissaia about the folk dancing the next day. Predictably, she didn’t get an answer, only an ambiguous hum that meant absolutely nothing. A day later, she prodded Tissaia again, telling her that a demonstration would be adequate too, and that she wouldn’t ask any further questions after seeing her dance.   
  
Tissaia said that her leg hurt too much on that particular day. The next day, she said that she was out of practice, and that not even Yennefer’s comment about how it didn’t matter for her could move her to perform. The following day, she suddenly had to do something very urgent in Tor Lara. 

With her efforts being proven fruitless, Yennefer stopped asking every single day. Instead, she began paying more attention to Tissaia’s movements. When she sat behind her desk one evening, Yennefer read a book on the small dining table in the study. It was then that she heard it. 

Tissaia’s feet likely didn’t reach the ground, as high as the desk was. Instead, her heels rested against the sports of the chair. And Yennefer heard her tapping against them. Carefully, she looked over. The rectoress was engrossed in her own reading, one of the letters for approval in a court, that one of the newly ascended students had written to her. She didn’t notice Yennefer staring at her, nor did she seem to do the tapping consciously. 

It was a clear rhythm. A long beat, a shorter one, then a long one and a shorter one again. Once more the syncopated rhythm, followed by three sharp, short taps. It was a swung rhythm, as one might find in a jig. 

Yennefer cleared her throat, loudly. The tapping stopped in an instant. When she said it to Tissaia, as they laid in bed, the rectoress only said: “It was late, piglet.” 

Another three days passed without further tapping or questions about said tapping. Then, one afternoon, they were watching Coral, who was entertaining herself and a few students by practicing her fiddle in the courtyard. Her tone was still a bit clumsy, and she missed a note here and there, as she still struggled to perform the necessary intricate movements with her prosthesis. She played a sad melody, which gently flowed up and down the fiddle’s middle register, almost like a human voice. As she briefly paused, she explained to the students that it was a traditional tune from Skellige, called Solveig’s Song. Then she lifted the instrument to her shoulder again and started to play something much more lively. 

Instantly, Yennefer saw Tissaia lift her good leg and bring the heel down, twice per measure. The sound was muffled and very soft, but Yennefer’s keen ears caught onto it nonetheless.   
  
“You know I won’t stop prodding, right?” she asked, watching in bemusement as Tissaia stopped the foot tapping and glared at her. “Dance for me once and you’ll be rid of it, I promise.” 

“Then you better keep that promise,” Tissaia said. “And don’t tell anything about it to the students, or you’ll be sorry that you did.” 

“What then? Are you going to make me take a swim in the eel pool?” 

With a subtle arch of her eyebrows, Tissaia shrugged. “Perhaps.” 

That evening, Yennefer wanted to go up to Tissaia’s quarters, where she had taken to eating dinner every evening. As she approached the door on the highest level of Aretuza, she heard the sound of something scraping over the floor in the room behind it. With a frown, she laid her hand on the door handle. Just as she was about to press down, someone cleared her throat behind her in the corridor. 

“Yen, could you help me with something?” Coral asked, vaguely pointing behind her with what looked like an empty sleeve. She wasn’t wearing her metal arm. “I’ve spent a lot of magic today with the first years’ offensive spell trials… Don’t want to start bleeding from my nose when I move a few things around, so I was wondering if you could do that?” 

With slight hesitance, Yennefer followed her through the hallway. “Are Triss and Sabrina not around to pester? What about the older students?” 

Coral briskly opened a door to a classroom and gestured to the tables that stood in neat, orderly rows. “These must be moved against the wall, so I have the space to explain a few hexes without leaving marks on Tissaia’s precious equipment. The older students are eating dinner in the hall. Triss and Sabrina are in their chambers, and I know better than to disturb them. You know, because Sabrina can… glare.” 

Sabrina could indeed glare. Yet something about Coral’s request still bewildered Yennefer, as she started levitating the tables and moving them around. Coral was an experienced mage, she couldn’t have just expended herself like that. “How did you waste all your energy in a first years’ class?” 

“I overshot,” Coral said as she leaned against the door opening. “Misjudged the amount I channeled through the prosthesis, made a dent in the wall, had to fix that up before Tissaia started hounding me again, you know.” 

Coral did have a rather loose and free style of spellcasting, so Yennefer could see her blast a hole in the wall. But overshoot with her magic? Even with the metal arm that she had to get used to, that seemed like a hard thing to do. After having moved the tables and chairs out of the way, she swiftly wished Coral a good evening and cast a portal to Tissaia’s study. Or rather, to the door of it, since she knew that Tissaia wouldn’t appreciate it if she opened one inside the chamber. 

She missed Coral’s bemused smirk as she stepped through the portal. 

When Yennefer opened the door to Tissaia’s study, she saw that the curtains had been closed, several hours earlier than usual. The table had been moved aside, so it stood adjacent to the wall, and the desk had been shoved backwards too. 

The rectoress stood by the hearth, in the process of leaning her cane against the wall. She perked up when Yennefer opened the door. “Yennefer,” she said quietly. “You are earlier than I had expected.” 

“Coral’s distraction not enough for you?” Yennefer asked as she looked around for a place to sit. A single chair had been placed in front of the desk, so she sat there, crossing her legs and quirking her eyebrows at her lover. 

“I had hoped that she would delay you for a bit longer,” Tissaia admitted. Her feet made a distinct clicking noise when she walked to the middle of the room, making her way from the hearth to the table. A dark red cloth laid on it, covering something. 

“Your shoes.” Yennefer nodded at them with a smirk. “Dancing shoes, aren’t they?” 

“With a metal heel and a wooden tip, yes. I was surprised that they still fit me, after so long.” 

Slowly, Tissaia uncovered what lay on the table. Instruments. All of them dusty, which was likely the reason for Tissaia’s look of stern disapproval. She lifted a lute, carefully holding it by the neck, underneath the tuning pegs. Then she started chanting in Elder, continuing for several seconds as the strings were plucked by an invisible force. With great care, she levitated the instrument, until it came to a stop near the hearth. 

Yennefer watched as Tissaia repeated the process with the other instruments. There were three flutes, ranging from one as long as her arm, with a bore as large as the width of her wrist, to one the size of her hand. Next came an instrument with a double reed on the mouthpiece. Then there was a little tambourine and a somewhat larger drum. Lastly, Tissaia lifted a violin from the table. 

“Couldn’t you borrow Coral’s fiddle?” Yennefer asked. When she had seen it, a few days prior, it had looked a lot better than the old instrument that Tissaia was holding. 

“You don’t know how protective she is of that thing, Yennefer. She’d rather lose her other arm than borrow it to someone.” With those words, Tissaia finished her spell. The instruments hovered in a half circle around the hearth, the perfect position to project their sound into the chamber. Tissaia walked to the middle of the room, waving her hand at the door. The air became slightly heavy as she cast a sound muffling ward. 

Yennefer chuckled at that. Of course, Tissaia did not want word to spread about the fact that she, the uptight rectoress of Aretuza, was enchanting instruments and about to dance in her study. For Yennefer. All of it was for her, and that thought made Yennefer’s heart flutter. 

As Tissaia walked to the middle of the room, Yennefer saw that her clothing was different from the green dress she had been wearing throughout the day. The dark blue fabric was split in four long strips, each laid over the white underskirt. Underneath the bodice was a broad leather belt with engraved patterns and knots, detailed with fine threads of green silk. Tissaia’s arms were bare, since the dress was held up with thin straps of fabric over her shoulders. 

It took Yennefer a few moments before she recognized the outfit. Blue and white. The colours of the heraldry of Cidaris. This was a dancer’s dress from Tissaia’s old homeland, and she looked striking in it.

“Pay close attention, this isn’t as easy to do now as it used to be,” Tissaia said as she tapped her leg gently.

Even the way she held herself seemed different as her posture was still just as stiff, but there was a certain fluidity she expressed as she eased herself across the room while her shoes clicked against the floor. 

Tissaia took a few moments to position herself into a starting pose, her right leg in front of her left leg with her foot angled to face away from her body. Her arms were stiff against her sides as she looked towards the instruments and began to mouth the words to the incantation which would begin their play. It was as if she couldn’t even allow the sound of her own voice to break her concentration.

Brought to life by her spell, the flutes and the tambourine began to enchant the room with their music. It was a happy and bright melody which was extremely catchy and Yennefer found herself wanting to hum along with it, though she refrained as she wouldn’t want to disrupt Tissaia’s focus with her horribly out of key voice.

_Song composed by braz, specially for this scene! It's a little jig_

* * *

Yennefer could see Tissaia slightly nodding her head along with the rhythm of the song until she was ready to join the instruments with her dance. Quickly, she bent both her knees and hopped into the air, landing only momentarily in the same position. Then she kicked out her right leg and brought it back behind her left, landing the tip of her toe down on the ground with a sharp clack. She repeated a similar movement with her left leg and seemed to alternate each motion with either a click of her heel or a tap of her toe. Each became part of the song and only enhanced it as more of the instruments began to join in.

Yennefer found herself entranced as Tissaia continued to practically float through movements she could hardly comprehend. Whatever dance it was that Yennefer had been expecting out of the other woman, it wasn’t this. This was something far from what she could ever imagine Tissaia indulging in, for while it was structured and somewhat ridgid, it was also loose and free. Perhaps there was much Yennefer could learn about Tissaia from this dance.

Her eyes widened as the instruments began to speed up their tempo and Tissaia followed right along with them. She raised her hands to her hips and continued the light and airy steps, but this time she moved across the room in a half circle as she danced, nary missing a single step.

The raven haired sorceress felt her heartbeat increase nearly to the pace of the drum at the sight of it, and she almost felt bad for pestering Tissaia so much as this couldn’t be easy to do, given she was still recovering. Some days, her leg was so much better than others. This was apparently one of those days, Yennefer mused to herself as her eyes never left Tissaia’s figure. She found herself admiring, more than once, the strong definition of her calf muscles as she flexed and kicked. A cold bath would probably do her some good after watching this.

Suddenly all of the instruments sped up substantially once more, and Yennefer thought that Tissaia would surely injure herself if she continued at this impossible pace. It was something Tissaia must have also felt as she stopped and allowed the song to finish while catching her breath.

“There was a time when I could finish the entire song without the need to stop, even at that part, if you would believe it,” Tissaia panted as she took the glass of water Yennefer had hastily fetched for her and began to down it’s contents.

“After what I just watched you do, I have no doubt. How long have you been hiding this secret? And where did you even learn how to do that? It looked Elvish.” Yennefer was still undeniably shocked that she could move in such a way, one which made it look almost effortless.

“Elves, yes. In my youth I would sneak out of the manor on occasion and watch them dance. They were so free as they told stories of long ago, playing their instruments and dancing. That was a long time ago, however.” Tissaia shifted her gaze to the floor as she handed the empty glass of water back to Yennefer. Her tone had turned saddened and the younger sorceress knew there was most likely another story behind it which she didn’t want to address in detail, so she didn’t press the matter any further.

Tissaia began collecting the instruments and placed them carefully back onto the table. Unable to help herself, she began to polish off some of the dust which had accumulated on them over time. “Appalling,” she stated under her breath with the same look of disgust she initially had.

Not wanting to just stand around without purpose, Yennefer decided she would be useful and retrieve dinner, since it appeared most of Tissaia’s time had been spent preparing for the dance. “I’m going to the kitchen to get dinner, and before you say anything, I’ll go _outside_ the room and portal.”  
  


Tissaia simply glanced up as she continued her task of cleaning, her lips quirked into a slight smile. “I hope you don’t take as long as you did last time, I may starve to death by then.”

Yennefer looked over her shoulder and scoffed as she opened the door and retorted. “You’re insufferable, Tissaia de Vries, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the full poem, made by braz:
> 
> My lover is a foreign sea   
> In which I'd gladly drown   
> Or the horizon which I see  
> Wearing heaven's crown
> 
> My dearest, won't you come with me  
> By dawn, we'll sail away  
> Oh fair one, heed my lover's plea  
> Sung as the tides sway
> 
> Alt:   
> Oh fair one, heed my lover's plea  
> For I am so very gay


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is fluff, Tissaia starts practicing sword fighting, Yennefer cares about Aretuza's staff for once, Triss is concerned about their health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe that this is a "short chapter"?   
> Neither can we

Tissaia didn’t regret the dancing. No,  _ regret _ wasn’t the right word. She had enjoyed dancing the practiced steps again, after so many years of not doing so. Yet the ache in her leg which followed the morning after reminded her of the fact that she should at least have drank a fortifying potion beforehand. The place where the arrow had punctured the flesh deep in her thigh stung, and she knew that it would be a painful day. Whether her leg would be sore or not was something entirely unpredictable, left up to the whims of her own body. And Tissaia didn’t like unpredictable things. 

It made her feel defenseless, which was something she liked even less. 

As she exited the bathroom, dressed and ready to teach, she cast a glance at Yennefer, who sat on the edge of their new bed. True to what they had discussed, it was a four-poster bed, though slightly smaller than the one Tissaia had owned before. There was enough room to spread out still, but that didn’t deter Yennefer from snuggling up so closely to Tissaia that the rectoress inevitably ended up with a face full of hair, and Yennefer’s head lying on her shoulder with her body curled up next to her side. 

“Slept well?” Yennefer asked, half a teasing grin on her face. She refrained from calling Tissaia any terms of endearment. For now. 

“I slept well enough, yes. Though waking up with the feeling that I cannot walk is never pleasant.” Leaning heavily on her cane, Tissaia started to make her way to the door. She knew that Yennefer wouldn’t get up unless she absolutely had to. “I’m sure I’ll hear something from Triss about that, when she checks my injuries.” 

“Don’t tell her that you spent an evening dancing for me, she might start berating me for it,” Yennefer said with a laugh. “Oh, and watch out for those.” 

‘Those’ were Yennefer’s two blades, hung on a weapons stand next to the door to Tissaia’s study. They had only just been placed there a few days prior, and Yennefer knew that Tissaia needed a bit of time to get used to the new items in her bedchamber. The last thing she wanted was for her lover to stumble over them and aggravate her healing wounds. 

Seeing the blades, Tissaia turned back around to Yennefer, who had just stood up from the bed. The nightshirt that she wore stopped halfway down her thighs, and Tissaia quickly looked to the rumpled sheets on the bed instead, silently wishing that Yennefer would straighten them before taking a bath. “How good are you with them?” she asked. 

Yennefer’s eyebrows rose at the question. “Decent. Good enough to hold my own against some bandits when I’ve ran out of magic.” 

“Good enough to teach me a thing or two?” Tissaia grabbed her cane under the round top of the handle, gripping the cool metal that coated the upper part as if she was holding the pommel of a sword. The wood of the cane melted away under her command to reveal the blade within. It was much thinner than either one of Yennefer’s weapons. Her elegant dagger, which also hung on the weapons stand, came closer in both shape and thickness of the blade. Tissaia summarized that the sword she had in her cane was more alike to a rapier than a knight’s blade. 

Yennefer didn’t seem very surprised at the question. She already knew how much Tissaia disliked how vulnerable her new limp left her sometimes. “If your leg can take that,” she said as she opened the door to the bathroom and entered.

As the raven haired sorceress closed the door to the bathroom, Tissaia arched an eyebrow. A challenge had been presented, so it would seem, and she was more than willing to prove to Yennefer that her leg could indeed manage.

Not without Triss’ assistance, however.

Tissaia turned sharply on her heel in order to leave the chambers, flinching ever so slightly as the movement aggravated her healing wound. One which seemed to linger, no matter how much effort she had exuded to recover from it. Even the slice she had obtained to her abdomen was proving less troublesome than this. 

With an unsteady gait and a dominating presence, she slammed her cane onto the ground as she made her way towards the medical wing. She shouldn’t have enjoyed the panic it caused to the rest of the residents whenever she walked down the corridors like this, but she did. 

Once she entered the healer’s ward, she gave up her presence. Everyone was the same rank here, and everyone here was trying to recover from something. It was time to humble herself.

Triss stood on the far end of the room, just next to a burn victim. One of the more severe injuries sustained in the Nilfgaardian attack, and Tissaia felt her brow crease when looking upon them. The kind healer rubbed a balm lightly onto her own wrist as demonstration, then handed the medication to Fola, whom she seemed to be taking on as an intern. Upon noticing Tissaia's entrance, she gave the young girl a few final instructions, then approached her guest.

“Rectoress, I wasn’t sure you were coming in today,” Triss said as she smiled warmly, gesturing to her with one hand guiding her into a private examination area.

“And why would you think that? When have I ever missed an appointment?” Tissaia replied as she followed the healer. Thankfully, they had finally been able to allocate a space where she could be treated away from prying eyes and ears.

Triss laid a sheet of clean linen over the exam chair and gently took the crook of Tissaia’s arm in one hand, while taking her cane with the other then helping her into the chair. She propped the cane against the wall and approached Tissaia with a smirk. “I heard you were up late last night with Yennefer.”

Tissaia very nearly rolled her eyes at the comment, was there anyone in Aretuza who _ did not  _ know about the intricacies of her relationship with Yennefer of Vengerberg at this point?

“I was.” It was all she could muster to say, and she was quite relieved that this conversation was with Triss, and not Coral.

“I’m glad you are finding someone to spend time with. She seems to be helping with your strength training as well.” Triss said as she felt the muscle of her upper thigh, and hammered softly at certain points of her knee with a stone-tipped medical instrument, in order to test her reflexes.

Tissaia wasn’t quite sure just exactly what it was that Triss seemed to be alluding to, but she would rather continue to have the healer believe  _ that _ , than confess to the fact that she was dancing for Yennefer. Especially since she had been  **_specifically_ ** instructed not to overexert herself. Tissaia surmised that exuberant folk dancing would fall into that category.

“I can tell you are having more trouble than usual, are you certain you’ve been exercising this leg only as you have been shown?” Finally complete with her physical examination of the muscle around the site of the injury, Tissaia shifted uncomfortably as Triss aligned the heel of Tissaia’s shoe against her own shoulder. “Now push against me.”

Just as she was asked to do, Tissaia pushed her leg against Triss’ shoulder and nearly cried out in pain as it was excruciating. “Yes, some days are simply worse than others.”

“You are still doing quite well, I’m going to ask you to continue with your stretching and your exercises. Walk whenever you can, but be careful! No overdoing it, I mean that,” Triss said as she drew her eyebrows up, finishing with a serious tone.

Tissaia stood from the table once instructed to do so and took her cane from the hand of the healer who was offering it back to her. She did not want to ask her next question, but spending time with Yennefer was becoming more enjoyable by the minute and the thought of learning to sword fight with her kept ruminating within her mind. She knew the craving to learn a skill which was foreign to her would not subside until she had been taught more about it.

“Would you issue a potion for me? One which will help loosen the muscles a bit so I can use my leg to full extent again?”

Triss chuckled as she turned to fetch a potion from a nearby table, handing it to her before she offered a smile. “Promise me you’ll go easy on yourself, and Yen too.”

Tissaia nodded her head, knowing the healer would be able to see through any lie she told, she chose to answer verbally. “I’m not sure I can make that kind of promise now.”

“If Yennefer is asking too much from you, you should simply tell her to be considerate, and-”

“No, Triss, this is for myself,” Tissaia said as she turned the cool glass bottle over in her hand, focusing on the way the greenish liquid swirled within its vessel. “Something to make me feel not quite as defenseless.” 

As Triss walked with her to the exit of the medical ward, she said: “You are one of, if not  _ the  _ most powerful mage on the continent, Tissaia. Even with this new… hindrance, you are anything but defenseless.” 

The most powerful mage on the continent. Tissaia let the words sink in for a few moments. Perhaps she was, if she kept those immense powers under control. Without restraint, power itself was useless. But she didn’t want to frighten Triss with an affirmation and description of her true magical prowess, so she only shook her head softly. “I doubt that statement. There are many powerful mages on the continent, and not all of them are on our side. As for my abilities preventing me from coming to harm… the dimeritium proved otherwise.” 

Tissaia took Triss’ hand in her own as she looked into the healer’s kind brown eyes. She knew the concerned frown that looked down upon her well, but she also knew that she had to make her point clear. The time of letting everyone worry over her was behind them all. “I will ask Yennefer to teach me how to use the blade in my cane well. She seems to have picked up some sword fighting skills, and I intend to do so too. The next time someone thinks to put me out of commission by taking away my magic, they will find me wiser than before.” 

“You’re talking about Fringilla.” It wasn’t even a question. As Triss squeezed Tissaia’s hand a little bit more tightly, she sighed. They all harboured a kind of wish for vengeance against the Nilfgaardian mage, especially after the recent attack on Aretuza. Triss knew this all too well, since her own wife was adamant on strangling the life out of Fringilla with her bare hands after shooting an arrow, or several, at her. 

With a hum, Tissaia answered: “I try not to allow a lust of revenge to take hold of me, but if our paths cross again, I want to be prepared. If I have the opportunity to make her pay for the things she did in the Battle of Sodden Hill, for how she injured me, for how she tried to set Yennefer up against me a few days ago, nearly breaking the poor girl’s mind, I will. If not, that is alright too. I’m fairly certain that all of Aretuza wants her head now.” 

~~~

The words wouldn’t leave her mind at peace. Not the ones about Fringilla, though Tissaia knew that she had to be careful with that as well. Revenge made people lose their minds and thus, their control. 

She sat in front of the fireplace in her bedchambers, staring quietly into the flames. In a few minutes, she would have to meet Yennefer in one of the ground level classrooms. It was a big, open range in which the combat lessons were given. There were targets and training dummies that could be used to fire spells upon, the floor was enchanted so parts of it could be lifted and sunk to create landscape for a battle stimulation. Sabrina practiced her archery there and Coral had been spending time in it figuring out how to use her metal arm without punching herself or others in the face. Now, Yennefer was setting up whatever it was she needed for the sword fighting training. 

Tissaia had promised to change into something more suitable for physical exercise than the long, blue dress that she had been wearing since morning. The training fit in between her classes in the afternoon and their dinner, so there was enough time for her to select a different outfit. Instead, though, she had been looking at the glowing coals in the hearth, mulling over what Triss had said a few days prior. 

_ The most powerful mage on the continent.  _

Was she, truly? 

Tissaia had never had any ambition to be recognised as such, unlike a certain raven haired woman. No, as long as she could remember, she had been content with contributing something useful to the world, the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and the ranks of mages in general. It was what she had said to rectoress de Winter, before leaving Aretuza after her ascension, and it was still her way of thinking. Closing her eyes, Tissaia thought about the previous rectoress again. 

Klara de Winter had been everything she was not. Tall, with a booming voice and a sturdy body. Blonde, that they’d had in common, long ago. The woman had wandered the continent for decades, studying the chaos with the elves themselves. She had searched for a way to learn more, only to find that there was no such thing, Thus she had founded Aretuza, to make sure no other girl had to go through the hardships that she once had. To make sure that there was an accessible way to learn to navigate the inner chaos, for those who had the power inside them. 

Tissaia remembered how caring the rectoress was, but also how stern and strict she could be. It was from her that she’d learned that everything should be kept in a certain balance. 

_ “The fire calls to you, Tissaia. You feel it, as you feel anger, joy or sadness.” De Winter’s hand was steady on her shoulder, as she guided Tissaia to look into the flames of one of the torches in the hallway.  _

_ “I don’t understand what you mean, rectoress,” Tissaia softly answered. She wanted to, as she wanted to understand everything that she was being taught. With a great urge, even, but this was one thing that she couldn’t grasp. She inhaled quickly, her shaky exhale making the flame flicker.  _

_ “Not many mages can walk through fire without burning. Not many ever get close to tapping into that power in the first place, since chaos blesses every one of us with different gifts. Different areas of expertise. Look at Eilhart, and her rare talent of being able to polymorph.” Putting both of her hands on Tissaia’s slender shoulders, de Winter used the contact to steady the girl’s nervous breathing.  _

_ Tissaia tried to calm the racing of her heart, but something about the fire in front of her made her uneasy.  _

_ “You might be different still, de Vries,” the rectoress continued. “Call it ‘special’, though I know you have an intense dislike for that word.”  _

_ She was right about that. The girl from Cidaris didn’t enjoy being called special. Turning around, she tried to look into de Winter’s eyes, only to have a hand brought up to her cheek, moving her head in the direction of the flame again.  _

_ “Do you want to burn to ash, Tissaia?”  _

_ “N-no, rectoress.”  _

_ “Then I will try to teach you how to control the fire.”  _

Slowly, Tissaia stood up and brought her right hand up. She made a fist, then unfolded her pointer and middle fingers, aligning her thumb beneath them. Aiming the three fingers at the hearth, she took a deep breath, taking in the simmering energy of the coals. Balance and control. On her exhale, the fire flared, shooting into the chimney as if someone had poured oil onto it. 

A minute smile tugged at Tissaia’s mouth when she dimmed it again, drawing the energy out of the flames as easily as one would take a single step. She opened her hand, spread her fingers and concentrated the last vestige of the chaos that she had wielded into a small thread of flame that wound around her thumb. It was as if she wore a little ring of fire now. As effortless as it was to conjure now, so hard had it been in the beginning. The threshold between manipulating an already existing fire, what Yennefer had done on two occasions, at creating it by herself, something Tissaia hoped her lover would never have to learn, that had been the most difficult part. 

She blinked a few times, to make certain that the reddish glow had faded from her eyes. Then she turned to the closet, since Yennefer was bound to get impatient.

Her eyes scanned through her many clothing options, realising most of them were inappropriate for the occasion. The collection of high collar dresses she had accumulated over her many years was expansive, but none of those would be suitable in a sword fight. Aside from that, she hardly had any plans to hear Vengerberg comment on her attire after she herself had made remarks on the ‘rope monstrosity’ Yennefer had chosen to wear during the battle of Sodden Hill. It was towards the end of their shared mug of ale, and Tissaia remembered how loosely the truth seemed to flow from her lips at that point. In retrospect, she wished other truths had flowed just as easily as well.

An audible gasp preceded the smile which graced her lips as she pulled a pair of dark breeches from the closet. She recalled the fond memories she had of many years ago when she used to wear these breeches and slip outside of De Vries manor to watch the wild geese as they migrated through Cidaris. The way they landed in the nearby river and settled in with each other as they nested throughout the summer before departing, resurfaced in Tissaia’s mind. There were so many of them, and they were so intriguing.

Tissaia hummed to herself as she recalled the time she had stumbled across an injured goose. It was the first time she had seen one of them up close. The bird had flown into something and had hurt itself. Against her better judgment, she sat with the creature until it had regained its strength enough to fly again, offering comfort to it while it cried out in pain. It was a life changing experience for her once she watched it fly off.

She shook the memory from her mind as she slipped into the breeches and fastened the golden buttons which shimmered almost valiantly in the light. The instant she had learned to cast preservation spells upon clothing, she had done so. She had no regrets, for she admired the dark colour of the fabric. It was a deep, rich brown which could be misinterpreted as being black upon first glance. The breeches were fairly high waisted and their length rested just below the knee. The fabric was flexible and they would be perfect for what it was she needed them to do right now.

Which was to prove to Yennefer of Vengerberg that she had what it took to best her in a training session, in some way or another.

Next she put on dark green stockings, which comfortably encompassed her legs up until where the breeches ended. Then she pulled out a dark blue doublet, one she had worn several times before as it was a perfect way to conceal her form during the nights that she, Coral and Philippa would sneak down to the rocky beaches of Aretuza in their youth. The Skelligen would play her fiddle as Philippa decided whether she wanted to sing along that night or not. Tissaia smiled to herself as she recalled just how much sand she had kicked up dancing those nights whilst Madam de Winter watched from afar. The former Rectoress had never wanted to make her presence known, and Tissaia always surmised that it was simply out of fear that her appearance would intimidate them enough to stop them from living just a little, but she was always watching over them.

Once Tissaia had completed the look with a cotton shirt, with slightly poofy sleeves, and donned her gear, she inspected herself in the mirror which was affixed to the back of her closet door. Satisfied with the look, she downed the potion Triss had been so kind to have given her. Immediately, she felt her leg muscles relax.

_ Perfection, _ she thought to herself. 

She slipped into a set of soft, durable leather shoes and knotted the laces both tightly and purposefully, tucking them inside so as not to give Yennefer any kind of advantage, should they loosen. Once she had herself situated, she reached for her cane and sharply thrust it onto the floor, relishing the sharp sound it made as it connected with the stone beneath her feet, teleporting herself to her destination.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia said evenly, as she suddenly found herself in the practice arena, having hardly recalled casting the spell which brought her there in the first place.

“Tissaia… “ The raven haired sorceress droned as she encircled her, unsheathing a blade while she inspected her from heel to head.

“I trust you will make this lesson meaningful?” The rectoress stated as she scanned over her opponent. Yennefer had finally chosen something suitable with which to train in, dark breeches and a fur-lined doublet, clothing that was similar to her own outfit. The sight of her like that made her heart flutter, but she stifled it, for this was supposed to be educational.

Yennefer withdrew her other blade and whispered an incantation to dull them both, the last thing she wanted to do was to harm Tissaia during this teaching. Her tone shifted into one of complete arrogance, something typical and befitting the sorceress of Vengerberg. “I will make this lesson meaningful, if you are able to keep up with me.”

Tissaia swatted away Yennefer’s initial incoming strike with her cane, then uttered a few words which caused it’s sheath to disintegrate under her command, revealing the blade underneath which resembled a rapier. It was also blunted with a spell, to prevent injury. “You are going to have to do better than that, if you wish to dispatch me.”

“If I were to assess this from a battle standpoint,” Yennefer stated as she kept her distance and yet observed her so closely, “I would say that I have the upper hand.”

“Oh?” Tissaia said as she shrunk back and poised herself  _ and  _ her rapier into a defensive position.

“Yes, I can definitively say that I have the upper hand.” The younger woman stated confidently, as her eyes flitted from Tissaia’s intense gaze, down to her muscular calves.

She was greeted by a sharp shock of pain once Tissaia slapped her abruptly on the back of her knee with her weapon. “No, you do not have the upper hand.  _ You are distracted.” _

“ _ Ow _ , fuck!” Yennefer called out.

“Whom,  _ exactly  _ is the one giving the lessons here?” Tissaia said as she smirked.

With a quickness reminiscent of Yennefer, the younger mage teleported behind the older woman, and Tissaia felt the dulled blade of her short sword as it pressed against her neck. “ _ I am the one providing the lessons here _ , and if it wasn’t me, you would be dead right now.”

Tissaia transformed her sword back into a cane and slammed its tip against the top of Yennefer toes then quickly shifted out of her grasp. She pressed the wood against her throat, uttering the incantation to transform it back into a training blade. She rested it against Yennefer’s chin, lifting her head slightly, fully cognizant of her opponent's sharp intake of breath at the movement. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Yennefer stated confidently as she simply batted away the cane pressed up against her jugular and slipped behind the rectoress once again, shifting her shorter sword and positioning it’s tip against her kidney.

After a certain amount of time, Tissaia quietly admitted that such a blow against her would be fatal. Once again, she had to face the fact that without her magic she was severely hindered. The older woman relented. “Very well then, teach me. Show me which kind of fire it is that flows through your veins, and how I can protect myself from it.”

“Gladly,” Yennefer said as she released her grasp and spun away from her, much less distracted than she had been before. She sheathed one blade, walking up to Tissaia until she stood next to her. Then she looked the other woman over a few times. The tight doublet, breeches and boots were still very distracting, but she took a deep breath and tried to focus on what had been asked of her. “Your stance. We’ll do something about that first, because you’re still in the usual… ‘I am the rectoress and everyone must listen to me’ stance. Straight as a plank, and stiff as one too.” 

Yennefer deliberately avoided saying anything about a broom up in a private place, since she didn’t want Tissaia to storm off in the middle of their training. “Relax, take a breath, trust your body. Your leg too, it’ll heal.” 

After shifting on her feet a bit, Tissaia sighed, knowing she was right. She stepped forward with her right leg, bending both her knees a little. It was a bit like the starting positions for some types of dance, and she nodded at Yennefer, indicating that she was ready. 

“Good,” the younger mage said as she took up the same position next to Tissaia. She drew the hand in which she held her blade back and continued: “Now, you’ve taught me that magic is an extension of your senses. Think of your blade in the same way. You have countless possibilities to react to an incoming attack, and I’ll teach you every one I know, or else you won’t stop buggering me about it. I know that.” 

Slowly, Yennefer stepped forward with her left leg, closing the distance between her feet. Then she thrust forward with her blade, rotating her body sideways, her arm a straight line. She motioned for Tissaia to copy her, and smiled, nodding as she stepped closer to her lover. “The strength comes from your legs, not your arms. You don’t wield a heavy blade, no need to overstretch your arms that way.” 

While Yennefer carefully corrected a few things in Tissaia’s position, the rectoress noticed just how considerate her movements were. The hand that pressed in between her shoulder blades, softly guiding her to release the tension there, that hand was warm. Tissaia felt her heart flutter at the feeling. 

“I’ll teach you the basic single-handed strike and block today. We’ll spar in free style for a bit afterwards, to put the demonstrations to practical use,” Yennefer said as she positioned herself in front of Tissaia. “Then we’ll stop, otherwise Triss will kick my ass.” 

~~~

“What’s in there?” Sabrina asked, as Yennefer leaned up against Tissaia’s desk casually, before hoisting half of her derrière atop it, in order to sit and stare at the wooden box which had just been delivered to her.

Rather than answer Sabrina, Yennefer drummed her fingers against the grain of the wood a few times before tracing a finger along the yellow chevron of the crest of Aedirn. She had her own inquiries, and Sabrina’s would be answered soon enough. “Does anyone know the name of the lead culinarian, in the kitchens of Aretuza?”

Triss quietly continued to water the plants in Tissaia’s study, avoiding the conversation entirely, while Sabrina continued to stare at the raven haired sorceress, still awaiting an answer.

“Cerys,” Coral said with an even, yet annoyed tone. “You’d know that if you’d talk to her at least once in your life, she’s been here since before me and Tiss.”

Yennefer inhaled deeply and then let out a long sigh, for Coral wasn’t wrong. Her entire life had been spent chasing so much more than Aretuza ever had to offer. She had always wanted more of everything.  _ More  _ power,  _ more  _ attention,  _ more  _ fame _. _

Yet, it had always left her feeling empty, each and every time. Sometimes it took a while to catch up to her, but it was always there, that gnawing and nagging feeling indicating there was something else out there for her to find.

Yennefer had finally started to understand that perhaps she just never knew where to look. And she had most certainly never cared to notice the opportunities before, until Tissaia had almost died.

“Do you know where she’s from?” Yennefer asked as she ran her fingertips along the sides of the box and whispered the incantation required to open it, gasping ever so slightly as it’s contents were illuminated.

“Skellige, it’s a common name there. The current royal dynasty has a young girl called just so, Cerys an Craite.” The red haired woman responded as she continued to grade a few papers which she had painstakingly pried from Tissaia’s tight grasp, in a determined effort to persuade the woman to rest before dinner. It wasn’t a secret that she had been practicing her swordsmanship with Yennefer earlier in the day and would most likely need a reprieve from all of the physical exertion.

“I suppose that explains why she was willing to serve you fish for breakfast. Skelligen traditions… and gross, that too,” Yennefer mockingly said as she withdrew a dark blade from the box, running her finger carefully along its razor sharp edge and admiring its appearance. Lighter striations graced over darker ones and she could feel the magic in between those lines. Just as she was promised in her correspondence with the craftsman, these magically enhanced kitchen blades would never dull.

A sudden jolt to the back of her leg, from a cane, drew her away from her prize. Tissaia had apparently emerged from her nap, and seemed to be rather alert, clearly displeased that she had shoved aside her inkwell and quill in order to sit on the edge of her desk.

“Several hundreds of years before I was alive, the invention of  _ the chair _ was created. Please, do not insult their efforts by sitting on my desk whilst you stare at those knives,” Tissaia said as she cast a poignant look upon Yennefer and rounded the corner in order to take a seat herself.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” Coral interjected with a frown.

“I think I can handle my own affairs, Astrid…” The rectoress droned as she gestured towards the remaining few papers. Reluctantly, Coral pushed them closer to her. Tissaia began scanning them over instantly, picking up her quill from the displaced inkwell and making marks on the projects her students had turned in. 

“But what are you going to do with those knives?” Sabrina irritatingly stated as she stood and handed Triss another decanter of water. Tissaia had more small plants tucked away in her study than one would think upon first glance.

“I’m going to give them to Cerys. To thank her for keeping everyone in Aretuza fed, and for putting up with my shit… essentially,” Yennefer said as she raised her eyebrows and returned the blade to the box, closing it shut.

Several stifled laughs echoed throughout the chambers, even Triss stopped what she was doing to grin in Yennefer’s direction. Everyone knew she had been quite the handful in the mornings, portaling directly into the kitchen and demanding breakfast for her and Tissaia. Then repeating the process again in the evening when it was time for supper.

“This paper, from Fola…” Tissaia boomed as she cast a look towards Coral. “Have you read it?”

“I would have, if you hadn’t taken them back,” the red haired woman replied begrudgingly.

“Half of it is written in an ancient elder dialect, one I’m not familiar with. It appears she’s included a translation here in the lower part of the parchment.”

Yennefer stood quickly and rushed around the desk in order to look over Tissaia’s shoulder, hoping it was what she thought it was. In doing so, she placed one hand on the rectoress’ left shoulder, and the other on her right lower arm. If anyone in the study had seen it, they chose not to comment. 

“She’s done it,” Yennefer whispered. She could hardly contain her smile as she brushed gently over Tissaia’s arm with her own before taking the paper from the rectoress’s hand. “She’s translated it fully.”

As all eyes fell upon her, Yennefer began to read the ancient text penned by a girl younger than any of them. She wasn’t quite sure if she was using the correct annunciation, but she didn’t care as no one else could even understand half of it. Slowly she began to shift into the common language Fola had used as a translation, then smiled as she voiced her realization fully. “She documented the cure for dimeritium poisoning, both in common language  _ and  _ ancient Elder.”

Triss nearly dropped her watering can as she rushed over to look at the document with her own eyes. Yennefer handed it to her knowingly and watched as Triss read it over with lightning speed. “I can’t believe this… it’s so detailed. She’s outlined the exact procedure from start to finish, and she’s even included suggestions on how to make and apply the compress. I’m going to take this to the scribes and request duplication.”

Once the door had shut behind a very excited healer, Tissaia stiffened her posture and set her quill down.

“I suppose I should give her a good mark.”

Yennefer shuffled about momentarily, then gathered her box and headed towards the exit as well. “And I suppose I should take these to the kitchen.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! It's still 10k words, in true braz and greypaws style XD 
> 
> Including one last piece of art for this fic! Greypaws drew an amazing title art, incorporating a part of braz's sheet music in the background.

Just as the sunlight peeked through the curtains of their bedroom, Yennefer reluctantly hoisted herself out of the bed. She groaned, her head groggy as she rubbed the corners of her eyes. Carefully, she folded the blankets back over Tissaia’s sleeping form, making sure her lover didn’t get cold. They had been sleeping comfortably together, with Tissaia lying in the curve of Yennefer’s form, as the younger sorceress rested an arm over her partner’s waist. 

Yet ever since having caught up on her lost hours of sleep, Tissaia rested very lightly. She awoke when Yennefer brushed along the bare skin of her neck. “ _ Mmh…  _ Yenna?” 

The endearing nickname that Yennefer had allowed Tissaia to use spilled so softly over the rectoress’ lips. She found herself smiling down at Tissaia as she traced a hand along the smaller woman’s cheek. “ _ Shh _ , I promised to meet Glacella at some stupid hour in the greenhouses, because she has lessons in the morning. Go back to sleep, the sun is barely up.” 

To her surprise, Tissaia obeyed without further comment, pulling the blanket up to under her nose and pressing deeper into the pillows. Yennefer softly squeezed her upper arm through the thick covers once more, before retreating to the bathroom to make herself presentable. A few minutes, a warm bath and the barest hints of make-up later, she threw on her black breeches, a form-fitting shirt and her grey coat with the fur collar. Dressed just so, she made her way down to the greenhouse, quietly laughing to herself now that she didn’t have to face a golden dragon, but one red-haired girl who was starting to explore her magic. 

She paused as she approached the place where she had taken the fire into her body, though no traces of the blaze were visible anymore. She had gone to the dragon hunt to seek a cure for herself, so she could have a child. It had all gone in a rather different direction, yet here she was, on her way to mentoring a girl. Yennefer let out a short, somewhat bitter chuckle as she continued her path, setting that particular thought aside for much later. 

The greenhouse had been rebuilt nicely. Layers of new paint and plaster had been applied, the burnt plants had been removed and replaced with fresh ones, the benches had been repaired and the only traces left of the fire were a few bare spots where they had not yet placed new plants and herbs. Glacella sat on one of the benches, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails until she heard Yennefer’s approaching footfalls. Then she perked up, quickly looking behind her. “Lady Yennefer!” 

That title made the black-haired sorceress laugh. “Just Yennefer is fine. I’m hardly a court mage anymore, now am I?” 

“Okay!” Relief flooded Glacella’s round face as she laughed and avidly nodded. “When… when and where do we start?” 

“We’ll pick something up from the kitchens and then we’ll take a walk around the island. There are some things I need to ask you before we start on what Tissaia wants me to teach you.” 

From the corner of her eye, Yennefer watched Glacella as she fell in line with her steps as they walked towards the kitchen, trying to mirror her confidence by straightening her spine. Something she was clearly learning from Tissaia. Her hands gave her nervousness away as her fingers fidgeted, uncertain what to expect.

“What makes you angry?” Yennefer asked casually and arching her brows slightly.

Glacella cast a look of utter confusion towards her as the question had most certainly caught her off guard. She was used to answering questions based off of text from a book or scroll, but not this. “I - uh… I don’t like it when I’m given an assignment the day before it’s due, and I don’t feel like I have enough time to complete it without rushing.”

Yennefer stifled a laugh. “None of us do, but that’s something you’ll get used to.”

The younger girl frowned anxiously, and Yennefer could tell that the youth felt as if she had given the wrong answer, therefore, she tried again. “I don’t like it when my roommates leave their clothes on the floor and I trip on them in the morning when I’m trying to get ready for class. Murta does that, and I’ve told her four times already that she has to stop.”

“None of us like that,” Yennefer smiled, knowing she was the one leaving things all over the room for people to stumble over, much to Tissaia’s chagrin.

Glacella looked towards the floor sheepishly.

Yennefer stopped in the middle of a corridor, waiting for a few individuals to pass before continuing the lesson. “Those are all just dislikes, Glacella. This isn’t a test which you fail or pass. This is to help you determine what defines  **_you_ ** . Because what shapes you, also shapes your magic. You need to understand  _ yourself,  _ before anything else.”

She very nearly wanted to add  _ ‘lest you end up being transformed into an eel, then shoved into a pond by Fola with a broom’,  _ but this was the girl’s first lesson and there was no need to be so dramatic. 

“So you just want to know what makes me mad?” Glacella asked.

“No, I want to know more than that. I want to know what makes what makes you  **_angry_ ** . What makes your blood boil, what makes you want to explode?" Yennefer asked plainly.

Everyone had something which haunted them, almost devoured them, no matter how many years they had lived. It didn't matter, those things were always there. No one person's pain was greater than the next. The important thing was admitting to just what  _ exactly _ that pain was, which proved to be the complicated part.

It was something she herself had to learn along the way. Very few individuals knew how to deal with their past. Yennefer felt like she still didn't.

"My… my father," Glacella answered hesitantly. 

"Go on," Yennefer encouraged her. 

"He… I - I am just…" The young girl hesitated.

Yennefer placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You can say it. You’re safe here, with me."

"I am just an object to him. He traded a hundred horses for me to be here, in order to elevate our family’s name. You heard what Murta said in the greenhouse, before you fought at Sodden. What better way than to have a daughter, or  _ daughters _ , serve some pompous king and queen somewhere. He never looked back, not even on the day he sent me away. I remember looking out of the back of the carriage, hoping that he would at least wave goodbye. He never did." The young girl’s voice cracked just a bit before allowing a shaky exhaled breath past her lips. “He owns half of Creyden, all he ever cared about were his horses and his coin.”

Although her story and Glacella’s were substantially different, there was a commonality which could not be ignored. They had both been undervalued by individuals who should have defended them ferociously. And yet, Yennefer herself had been sold off to the will of Aretuza for half the price of an injured swine, and Glacella for the price of a hundred horses.

“Then that was  _ his  _ first mistake, underrating your worth,” Yennefer said as the pair had finally reached their destination and they stepped into the kitchen. The staff there were used to her waltzing into the space by now, walking away with whatever it was that she wanted. Usually it was food for her and Tissaia, but right now it was just a bowl filled with water.

She didn’t even demand it this time, she simply asked.

The headmaster chef was nowhere to be found but the rest of her staff seemed eager to help, setting down the sharpened knives she had brought them as a gift and offering fruit and pancakes for her and Tissaia.

“No food, not this time. Just a deep bowl, filled with water,  _ please _ ,” Yennefer asked as kindly as she could, waving off the offering of breakfast and taking the bowl of water she requested as she opened a portal to a quiet place in the back of the newly renovated greenhouse.

Once they stepped through, Yennefer placed the bowl on the ground and knelt down in front of it. Glacella hesitatingly mirrored her motions and joined her in kneeling above a simple dish of water. Something she had seen in the classroom before, but this lesson suddenly felt different.

“Are you able to do this?” Yennefer said as she relaxed, then brought her left hand up to her face, slowly curling her pointer finger and her thumb together. She drew back her physical energy and then released it with a quick flick to her cheek.

The result was a sound in which Glacella had probably heard several times before, just not in this fashion. She giggled at the resulting  _ ploink  _ sound. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Watch the bowl of water,” Yennefer instructed as she raised her hand to her cheek, but only telepathically transmitted the sound. 

_ Ploink. _

She watched Glacella’s eyes light up and heard her gasp as she observed the mysterious concentric rings emanate from the magical droplet she had cast into the center of the bowl. It was a simple spell, really, but this is where it was she knew the aspiring mage needed to begin in order to progress without losing herself. As Fringilla had done.

No, she needed to teach her like she had once helped Sabrina with hydromancy, when they had both still studied at Aretuza.  _ “I just can’t get the right focus,” _ the now very confident blonde had said to her in a distant past.

“You just made the water move! With your mind, and that sound!” Glacella exclaimed as she leaned in closer to observe the now still liquid.

“I’ll demonstrate that a few more times, and then we can just walk around the island and talk.” Yennefer stated as she smiled. Glacella finally seemed to relax for just a bit.

“Okay… but can you show me how you do that thing, with your cheek?”

_ Ploink. _

“You mean this?” Yennefer said once again, flicking her cheek with her finger and thumb, replicating the sound of a water droplet hitting a surface as she splashed a bit of water from the bowl with her magic towards Glacella, eliciting a giggle.

“Yes, that.”

Yennefer tapped her lip and hummed as she thought about the best way to describe it, for it wasn’t anything she had explained before, it was just something she had learned after many years of being stuck in a pig pen with nothing else to do. She nearly shuddered at the thought of the hours she spent watching and listening to water dripping into a bucket she had placed under the leaky roof of the pen, and how this silly trick kept her from going mad.

“Hold your lips like you are going to whistle, then open your jaw just a bit more. Next, you push the air out of your mouth by closing your jaw and using your tongue, flicking your cheek at the same time. It’s all about timing and perseverance, don’t expect to be able to do it on your first try.” Yennefer admittedly felt somewhat ridiculous as they both continued to flick at their faces in order to make a sound resembling a droplet of water, but Glacella seemed to be enjoying the experience and continued to try even though she was unsuccessful.

“One day I’m going to learn how to do it correctly, and then I’m going to show Fola and Murta. I’m going to splash them with water too.” The young girl tried not to laugh as she attempted it once more, but it was near impossible as she watched an established sorceress do something most would consider to be childish, all the while tying it into a lesson. 

“Hydromancy is a good place to start when learning magic. I know it’s not as appealing as other subjects but you can learn a great deal from it.” Yennefer said as she cast a spell, pulling the water up from the bowl like a magical fountain.

As Glacella watched closely, she swept her hand through it. “Water is flexible, as we must sometimes be. It can also be rigid and firm.” She demonstrated her point by freezing the water and allowing it to fall to the ground.

“Like the rectoress?”

Yennefer chuckled as she picked up the bowl and stood, dusting off her knees then extending her hand to open a portal. “Yes, that’s one way to put it. She’s like that because she needs to be, anyone who wears that pendant carries great responsibility. Let’s walk around the island.”

“It’s hard to imagine what she was like before she wore it.” Glacella pondered as she followed Yennefer.

“Every mage comes from somewhere, Glacella,” Yennefer said as she closed the portal. She had transported them to a long stretch of land on Thanedd, where the black rocks became the sea without a beach in between. The waves lapped at the stone in a comforting rhythm. It was also one of the places on the island that had a decent grassy field, which was exactly where Yennefer wanted to walk with Glacella. “Even the most powerful ones, like Tissaia. They all have a history, a past, a home which they left to study here, or at Ban Ard if they’re a man. They all have things that make them who they are.” 

“Like Coral and her metal arm?” 

“Think more in the direction of… well, now that we’re on the subject of Coral, think of her past. She grew up in a big family in Skellige, is used to having lots of people - loud, busy people - around her. Even though she was taught the exact same things here that Tissaia was, they couldn’t be more different. Coral’s casting style is loose, Tissaia’s very measured. The spells she uses come to her on instinct, Tissaia always thinks before she casts anything. Think also of how each mage specialises their craft.” Yennefer gestured at the large, dark shape behind them. “Sabrina is smart, so she’s a good advisor. But she also has a temper and will kick your ass in combat if she wants to. Triss chose the life of a healer, helping people, mending wounds and procuring remedies. All of these things, your passions, your strengths… the things that make you so angry, they determine what kind of mage you will become.” 

Yennefer didn’t quite know where all of those words came from. She just found them spilling over her lips, as she looked at Glacella every now and then. The young girl was nodding as she spoke, absorbing the information greedily with a smile on her face. It was a world of difference from the prickly and rude, but flighty and unsure girl she had been when they had first met. Now she’d had her conduit moment and Tissaia had finally accepted her fully into Aretuza. But had so much really changed? 

Or was the only substantial difference the fact that she had someone to confide in now? Someone who was older than her best friends and roommates. Someone who she could ask questions that neither the girls of her age nor the libraries had answers to. Yennefer could swear that her heart did a weird jump in her chest as she realized what she had become for Glacella. It had all gone so quickly, from being the first person Glacella had seen after her conduit moment, to being hugged and allowing the girl to sob into her clothing, to being appointed her mentor. Was this what motherhood felt like? 

“Did the rectoress ask you to tell this to me?” Glacella quietly asked, her eyes focused on where the waves washed over the maze of rock pools, etched out over many centuries of erosion. 

“No. She just asked me to make sure you’re not as much of a hassle as I was at Aretuza. And the years after that too. She sees that your control over your inner chaos isn’t as good as your classmates. Might have something to do with the fact that you had your conduit moment a literal week ago.” Yennefer shrugged and sighed. “But she’s right when she says that the lack of control can make you dangerous. For yourself, in Aretuza. For others, outside of it.” 

“Like you were?” 

That made Yennefer pause. She held still and looked Glacella into the eyes, raising her eyebrows and chuckling. The girl had guts, asking something like that. “Yes, like I was. Like the Nilfgaardian mage Fringilla Vigo is.” 

Glacella’s face screwed up at the mention of that name. Her hand went to the healed wound on her upper arm, rubbing over it underneath her dress. After a few seconds, she pursed her lips and looked up at Yennefer. “Does this also make me who I am?” 

“The scar? Not really, unless you choose to keep it after your ascension.” Yennefer started to walk away from the sea a bit, to the middle of the grassy field. Beyond that was a large area of sandy ground with shrubs and thorny bushes, which wasn’t something she wanted to trudge around in. Aretuza was still looming over them, despite how far she had portalled away from the massive structure. “The memories, yes, those will shape you. Especially one of such an attack.” 

She spread the fingers of her left hand, holding her palm upwards and letting energy concentrate in the middle. Glacella watched with big eyes as a softly glowing sphere of magic gathered in Yennefer’s hand. The older mage could feel it spark against her skin, a sensation she had gotten used to and even found pleasant. “I’m going to throw this at you. When you catch it, move along a bit in the direction it wants to go. Chaos doesn’t like to collide with a brick wall.” 

Glacella laughed as she leapt forward, to catch the ball of energy. Her arms were still too stiff when she caught it between her hands, struggling to hold it there as it nearly jerked out of her grasp. She closed her hands around it, light sparking from between her fingers. “How will this help me with my lessons?” 

“If you can’t control a little ball of magic, you think you’ll control any of the spells they will try to teach you?” Yennefer asked with a laugh. “Come, throw it back.” 

With all the grace of a newborn deer, Glacella opened her hands, nearly caused the sphere to fly into her face and eventually chucked it a few feet to Yennefer’s left, giggling all the while. Yennefer lashed out with a thin thread of magic, reeling the ball back into her hand and throwing it back to her apprentice with a fluent movement. “Try to get used to the power that you feel under your skin when it comes near you. Don’t let it distract you, because  _ that _ is your chaos.” 

She found the smile on her face growing bigger and bigger as Glacella slowly got the hang of it. Her movements became less ungainly as the morning passed, until she was able to catch and throw the ball of concentrated magic without trouble. She was having fun with it, laughing as Yennefer made it harder and harder for her to catch it, looking forward to the challenge that grew with each throw. This was an entirely different lesson than what Tissaia had been teaching the girl, Yennefer realized. In fact, it was likely completely the opposite thing. Fun, a game, starting at an easy level, no talk about values or grim tales of what could happen if she failed. Yennefer had done those things, but before the lesson, not during it. 

Just as she prepared for a spinning throw that should be hard to catch for Glacella, she felt a familiar presence slip into her mind. As she finished her movement, and was both pleased and surprised when Glacella caught it in both her hands, she gestured for the girl to pause. “Hold on, someone’s asking for telepathy.” 

_ ‘I do expect you and your apprentice back in the greenhouse in exactly five minutes, Yennefer. Her botany lesson will start then.’  _

Tissaia, immaculate with her timing as always. Yennefer heard no irritation in her voice, however. Just a minute amount of tension, as the rectoress always carried with her when someone was threatening to be too late for a lesson. She didn’t even bother to wait for Yennefer’s answer, shutting down the telepathic connection as soon as she knew that her demand had been received. 

“ _ Hmm, _ seems like rectoress broom-up-the-ass de Vries wants us to get back to Aretuza. You have your botany lesson soon,” Yennefer said to Glacella, with a raise of her eyebrows. “Throw it back one more time.” 

She stretched her hand out towards the incoming magic, letting the energy travel into her veins. Then she sharply pointed her right arm towards the sky, allowing the chaos to exit her body with a spark of light. It was exactly the same thing Tissaia had once done with a bolt of lightning, and though Yennefer didn’t want to admit it, it made her feel extremely smug to show off just a bit, in front of Glacella. The girl gasped at the display, making the smirk on Yennefer’s face intensify. 

Then she pouted. “I don’t like botany,” she mumbled. “This was more fun than boring plants. That’s Fola’s thing, not mine.” 

“You know I hated botany too, when I studied here. But those boring plants ended up saving Tissaia’s life, so you better study them well. And if I can give you a tip, ask for Fola’s notes. She’s very detailed in her descriptions.” With those words, Yennefer opened up a portal back to the greenhouse. 

Tissaia’s expression when she saw them, with their windswept hair and the sand on their clothing, was beyond priceless. 

~~~

  
  


There were seventy six rooms in Aretuza, spanning over five very expansive floors. Tissaia nearly felt as if she had seen them all far too many times. Between observing the newly renovated areas which had been destroyed by the fire, having resided at the magical academy for hundreds of years, and now hearing Triss repeating, on an almost daily basis, that she needed to walk to gain strength back in her leg, she had grown rather sick of seeing the same surroundings. 

The only details which had seemed to make the walks somewhat tolerable was watching people hide from her once they heard her coming, and spending time with Yennefer, as the other woman had made it a habit to accompany her after they both had finished with their lessons. Though the latter was something Tissaia wasn’t too keen on admitting aloud, for fear it would go to Yennefer’s head and she would make comments about it relentlessly.

Tissaia let out a long, drawn out sigh as they had passed the kitchens for the second time tonight. The aroma’s which had emanated from the area smelled wonderful, and she couldn’t help but to look forward to having supper soon, but she still had at least thirty more minutes to go before she could report to Triss that she was compliant in following her recommendations.

“Not keen on roasted chicken with vegetables tonight?” Yennefer’s voice interrupted her frustrated thoughts.

“On the contrary, I’m looking forward to the chicken. I  _ am not _ looking forward to another trip up this same corridor.” Tissaia reached for the pendant which hung around her neck, running her fingers along its surface. She felt slightly guilty for voicing her thoughts, but she had become much more comfortable confiding in Yennefer and what it was that troubled her.

“We can go to another floor if that would help. I know how confining these walls can feel.” Before she finished her sentence, Yennefer felt regretful and she cast her eyes downwards. “I wish I would have returned to them sooner.”

Tissaia briefly slipped her hand into the raven haired woman’s, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it and returning it to her own side. She noted how warm and soft the other woman’s hand was. “I can’t fault you for wanting something more, it made you who you are today. Aside from that, you’ve returned. There is no need to dwell on the past. But no, I don’t think a different floor would help, I’ve seen them enough over the years. I’ve grown tired of stalking these halls, Yenna.”

“We could pay a visit to Vengerberg, and walk about those shit filled streets.” Yennefer laughed as she said it, but she had found herself thinking of the past more and more as of late. While Tissaia was correct, dwelling on the past was pointless, there was a certain closure she felt she still needed.

A small smile appeared on Tissaia’s lips as she held herself up just a little straighter and a little taller. “That certainly sounds more interesting than this floor that I have seen for two centuries already.” 

~~~

The next day, Yennefer discovered that Vengerberg had changed about as much as Aretuza’s floors. A silent sense of dread creeped up in Yennefer’s chest as she stepped through the portal and offered Tissaia her arm. With a gesture of elegance and a slight quirk of her mouth, the rectoress laid her hand on the crook of Yennefer’s elbow. 

“Where to, Yennefer?” she quietly asked, shifting until she stood in front of her lover, as to snap her out of her daze. 

With a disheartened shrug, the younger mage made a vague gesture towards the main road out of the city. “A little round trip? That way you’ll get enough exercise for your leg to stop Triss from complaining about it every day.” 

“Lead the way, then,” Tissaia said with somewhat of a sigh, as she frowned and pursed her lips. It was a look that made it abundantly clear that she very much wanted to give Yennefer a long talk about letting go of the past. But she refrained, for now, and left it for later in the day. 

Truth be told, Yennefer didn’t know exactly how long they were walking around the city. Somehow, she led Tissaia to the central market, where she had once looked at other children who played on the streets with a kind of bitter jealousy. As they had frolicked around on the cobblestones, she sat in the open carriage, instructed to remain out of sight, lest she scare off potential customers who came to buy a pig. Yennefer shivered as she remembered how much she’d always hated the bustle of the market. Traders shouting, wares being carried in on noisy carriages, people shoving each other to get the best stuff first. 

She then led Tissaia away from the marketplace, down the road that led to the countryside around the city. She only truly noticed it when Tissaia tapped her on the arm and asked if she had intended to walk to her old house. Shocked, Yennefer stood still. No, she had not meant to end up a few houses away from the one where Tissaia had saved her from decades ago. Her feet had taken her there without her consent. Perhaps it had been a force of habit which led her here, or maybe this was the past she had felt the need to address.

Turning away was no option now. Sighing, Yennefer set her mouth in a tight line before letting go of Tissaia and marching the distance to the house. It was smaller than she remembered. More disheveled too, though she wondered if that was because of the amount of time that had passed or if it had always been that way. The barn had a collapsed roof now, the planks of which had fallen into the space below some years ago, because algae and moss had grown on them. The pig pen was halved with a fence, now only holding two quite skinny pigs. The other half of it was overgrown with grass and weeds. 

The entire place looked deserted. Yennefer wondered if her mother and stepfather still lived in the house. 

When she turned away from the building, she saw that Tissaia was slowly catching up, her cane tapping on the uneven ground. Together, they stood in front of the house for a few moments, scanning over it for any signs of life. Then, Yennefer heard Tissaia utter a strained sigh. 

“You are still afraid,” the older mage stated. “Just like you were when I… took you from here.” 

“I’m not afraid of a ruin,” Yennefer bit back. She quickly detached herself from Tissaia’s side and walked up to one of the dust covered windows to prove it. 

It was much lower than she thought to remember. So much so that she had to bend down to look into the house. Her back ached with a familiar pain, and she instantly knew just why the window seemed to be so much lower. As she put a hand onto the glass, she squinted and tried to discern anything inside the biggest room of the house. No fire burned in the small hearth, no lamps or candles appeared to be lit either. Just as she turned around to tell Tissaia that they had to go, because the house was a lost cause and there was no use in staying, the door flew open.    
  
“Get outta here, peeping scum!” a woman shouted at them. She barely looked to be in a better state than the house. Her clothing was grey and covered with filthy splotches. Mud, Yennefer knew, soot from the fire and oil from the only lamp they had possessed. Her hair was grey and covered with a farmers’ headdress that had once been red, a few stringy strands peeking out from beneath it. One of her eyes was glassy and unseeing, the other stared furiously at the women whose clothing was worth more than the entire house. 

Yennefer stumbled backwards, colliding with Tissaia, who hissed as her leg was jarred by the sudden impact. She inhaled sharply through her teeth as she quickly turned, grasping Tissaia by the forearms and scanning over her with her eyes. “Are you alright?”

Tissaia nodded her head and briefly rubbed her thigh with her hand. She then gestured towards the very angry woman with her cane. “I’m fine, but she doesn’t appear to be.”

It had been so long since she had been this close to her own mother and Yennefer was conflicted about how it was she was supposed to feel. She recalled the way she had cried out in agony once she realized Yennefer was being sold off to a stranger, nothing more than a simple transaction. It pained her to think of it when she was younger, she recalled. She often despised the woman for not putting up more of a fight for her, for not coming after her and demanding her daughter back.

But what  _ could  _ her mother have done? Her stepfather was a domineering man and Tissaia would have never allowed her to return to live out her life in a dilapidated pig pen. Not when there had been so much to teach her. These were the things Yennefer understood now, but as a child they had been lost to her.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but you’d be wise to get off of my property now. Else you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of this shovel!” The old woman stalked towards the both of them, raising the tool up in a striking pose as she focused on them with the one eye strong enough to do so.

“It’s me, mother. It’s Yennefer.” She felt a slight tremble in her voice as she raised her hands up, in order to demonstrate to her that she was not a threat. Protectively, she stepped in front of Tissaia. Obviously, the haggard woman was nothing Tissaia couldn’t handle herself, but Yennefer did not want to see the situation escalate unnecessarily.

The woman frowned and slowed her advance, taking careful steps closer as the wind kicked up a substantial amount of dust. It phased her little. “That’s impossible, you’re not my Yen. You’re not…” She waved a hand, bent and twisted from years of hard labor, up and down, before she trailed off, leaving the rest of her thoughts unspoken.

But Yennefer knew what it was she had tried to say. She wasn’t a helpless cripple, hunched over with deformities affecting almost every part of her body. The most obvious of those had been her spine and her jaw, but her hips and her ankles had also suffered. Something which her mother clearly remembered as she squinted her eyes, looking for any part of the child she had raised.

“I  **_am_ ** your Yen,” she said as she fought back tears, feeling their sting each time she tried to speak another word. While she had gotten rid of all of her deformities during her transformation, and had been so determined to be born  _ almost  _ completely anew, there was one thing she kept which she knew her mother would recognize. “Look at me, look into my eyes. You’ll see… you’ll see. You’ll see who I am, mother.”

A flood of emotions surged through her body as her mother lowered the shovel and approached her hesitatingly, gazing into her eyes until she was close enough that Yennefer could smell the dirt from her clothing and see the clouding in her blind eye. It mattered little, for she had smelled far worse things than an old, half-blind farmer.

The old woman reached out with an arthritic hand and pulled Yennefer closer to her by cloth of her doublet. She heard Tissaia as she shifted, knowing without so much as sparing a glance, that she was stiffening her posture in the event that she needed to act quickly.

After a few quiet moments spent looking into her eyes, her mother’s own eyes widened, smoothing the thick creases around their edges momentarily. It was hard to forget the specific shade of violet she had been born with. It was a rare color for even full blood elf standards. “Yen, it is you!” she exclaimed as she pulled her daughter closer, running her fingers along her cheeks. “My Yennefer, you’ve come back. I’ve missed you, so much.”

The tone in her mother’s voice was so genuine and so raw that Yennefer felt every thread of resentment she had ever felt dissipate almost instantly. Especially once those caring arms wrapped around her, and she only felt the heavy sobs of a woman who had read stories to her while her stepfather left town to procure livestock. A woman who had tried her hardest to show her she loved her, anyway she could.

“I’ve missed you too.” It was all Yennefer could manage to choke out before her mother pulled herself away and looked at Tissaia suspiciously.

“I recognize you,” her mother said as she narrowed her eyes at her company. “You were the one who showed up here all those years ago, hopping out of your carriage with your fancy, fur-lined cape and stealing Yennefer away from me.”

Tissaia inhaled deeply. The woman wasn’t wrong with the exception of how Yennefer had been procured. She hadn’t been stolen, but she hadn’t left willingly either. Thinking about it now made her regret the fact that she had ever given the man a single coin in the first place. “I did not steal her.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Yennefer said as she pulled away from her mother.

With a thoughtful hum, the old woman leaned the shovel against the exterior of the structure and cast a forgiving look towards Tissaia. “No, it doesn’t matter now. But I s’pose I should thank her for taking you from this shithole. You would have done nothing but rot away and die here.”

Yennefer looked at Tissaia as well and felt her lips pull slightly upwards into a smile. Yes, she would have rotted away in this pigsty she formerly called a home. Tissaia had saved her more than once, that much she could not deny.

“He’s still alive, you know. If there is anything you need to say to him best do it now. I would be surprised if he lives through the next season.” The old woman said as she nodded towards the old home.

Her smile faded upon hearing his name once again, and had completely dissipated the moment they entered the dimly lit residence. It smelled of dust and held the same choking scent of her step father’s low quality tobacco, as it had so many years ago. She much preferred the odour of the pig pen to  _ that  _ putrid aroma.

An uneasy feeling washed over her as she observed the figure which was hunched over in a chair near the corner of the room. Broad shoulders, once intimidating, were now slumped and somewhat uneven. The dark beard which hid a chiseled jawline was covered with nothing more than a sickly looking yellowish beard. The brooding look he had never been seen without was the only trait of his that was still recognizable. No longer was he the hulking man who used to yell at her for not feeding the pigs in the exact manner which he had expected her to. 

He was nothing more than a shell of what he had once been.

“Close the door, Kaveri. You’re going to let flies in.” His voice was raspy and his words trailed off into a wheeze, which then morphed into a cough that lingered.

“We have guests. Yennefer has come back to visit,” her mother snapped back as she shut the door.

His cough returned as he struggled to hoist himself from the chair to his feet, Yennefer could tell that the years of physical labor had taken its toll on him. The greatest irony being that it was now  _ his  _ spine which was mangled and twisted. As he approached, his dark eyes focused on her, hidden beneath a heavy brow. “I heard rumors in town about what Yennefer of Vengerberg did to the Nilfgaardian army. I always knew my daughter would be something special.” 

Yennefer felt a surge of rage rush through her body and she had to fight down her chaos in order to keep it at bay. The low flame of the oil lamp flared a bit higher and then flickered, casting shadows which danced in a sinister manner along the walls. Never in her life with him had she heard those words fall from his lips. “What, now that I’ve made a name for myself you’re proud of me? Or is it because I’m no longer a beast, the one you shoved into the mud and pig shit just before selling me off for four marks? No, you are no father of mine.”

With that, she could see that the expression in his face had changed to something more sinister. His pace towards her increased until Tissaia stepped forward, from just behind Yennefer, and slammed the tip of her cane sharply onto his toes. He let out a pained cry and then stumbled backwards a few steps, very nearly tripping over his own feet. As he sat back down and scowled, she heard him mumble a few expletives under his breath, never taking his eyes off of Tissaia.

“That is close enough.” Tissaia said sharply as she glared at him, unblinking.

Yennefer felt a warmth in her chest at Tissaia’s display of protectiveness. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a dying old man rushing up to her, for she had faced far worse over the years. It was  _ who _ the dying man was which made it different. A ghost from her tormented past, one who was no longer relevant.

The thought left her feeling somewhat empty. For years after her transformation she wanted nothing more than to yell back at him, to make him feel the pain he had caused him. To get him to understand. And yet now, none of that seemed to matter for she had grown past that. It had been years since she had even thought of him.

“We need to return to Aretuza,” Yennefer said as she scanned the interior one last time before looking her mother in the eyes and turning towards the door.

Once outside, she was hit with the unpleasant smell of agriculture. Somehow it was preferable to the stifling air inside her former home. Her mother followed her, extending her arms for one last embrace. Just as she leaned in to return the gesture, she noticed something which made her pause.

“You still… you still have it.” Yennefer whispered, stunned as she looked at what it was her mother wore on her wrist. 

It was long ago and boredom had set in. She had taken a few colorful strands of thread she had found and wove them together over and over until she had made a bracelet out of it. She had given it to her mother and was in the process of crafting a matching one for herself, but Tissaia had arrived and had taken her to Aretuza.

“I’ve never taken it off. Had it on since you left. I took it to a sorceress and had her make it so it would never fade or fray. It was the only thing I had left of you, and I didn’t want to let go.” The old woman wiped a few tears from the corners of her eyes as they hugged, for what would most likely be the last time.

After all of these years, Yennefer had felt forgotten and lost, yet she never was.

“It’s time to go, Yenna.” Tissaia said, almost delicately.

“Before you leave,” her mother said as she removed a rather primitive necklace she had worn for as long as Yennefer could remember, “take this. It belonged to your father.”

Yennefer wanted to retract her outstretched hand immediately, until her mother’s roughened voice clarified. “Your  _ real  _ father.”

Her heart seized at the thought. Discussion of him had been forbidden in the past, the only thing she knew about him was that he was part elf. Yet, now she held in her hand a relic from an unknown past. It was a simple stone, carved into a circle with a hole in the middle. A worn leather strand was threaded through the center. There was a faint inscription she had never noticed before carved into the stone. It was an ancient Elder dialect, and she couldn’t understand what it meant. Perhaps Fola could help her translate it at some point in time.

“Thank you, for this. I will always remember you,” Yennefer paused as she opened a portal to Aretuza, her home. She inhaled one last time, taking in the foul scent of a place she once never thought she would leave.

As she stepped through the portal, with Tissaia on her arm, she understood that the closure she had been seeking all this time was simply to say goodbye to the one person who had loved her. Even if it had meant loving her throughout some of her most difficult nights. It didn’t didn’t even feel so long ago, when her mother came to her, massaging out her sore muscles when she could hardly stand, bringing her supper and a dry blanket on the nights the pig pen was filled with mud and stench.

“Are you alright?” Tissaia’s voice brought her back as they stood in an empty corridor of Aretuza.

“I… I’m not sure.” Yennefer replied as she held the necklace in her hand. Everything had happened so quickly that she had almost forgotten the initial reason they had been there in the first place. She remembered the moment she looked at Tissaia’s cane. “Are  _ you _ alright? Your leg?”

“I’m fine, Yenna, my leg is healing and the walking helped. Shall we eat?” Tissaia asked with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Yes, I’ll pester the kitchen for a few plates. They know me well enough now.”

~~~

Tissaia couldn’t leave the healing scar alone. Endlessly, she traced her finger over the scabbed line that split her fair skin in a long slash from her right hip bone upwards to the left underside of her ribcage. An imperfection, just like the limp and the scar in her thigh that ached from the long time she had walked around in Vengerberg. Nearly all sorceresses hated imperfections on their own body, and Tissaia was no exception. This time, however, she couldn’t remove them. She couldn’t command them away while she laid on a cold slab and awaited her transformation. No, these scars were there to stay.

With a deep sigh, she felt along the ripple again, where Fringilla’s dimeritium dagger had torn deep into her stomach. The soft pillows and firm mattress of the new bed couldn’t bring her their usual comfort.

Because of the metal’s nature, and the effect that her prolonged exposure to it had on her skin, hiding the scar was impossible. Tissaia knew, and she had informed Yennefer of it several hours prior, before dinner. Neither Triss, nor Sabrina, nor the enchanter Giltine had been able to cast spells that covered the scar with a magical illusion of perfection. 

“Rubbing over it won’t make it go away, you know?” Yennefer butted into her thoughts, sitting down on the mattress and covering Tissaia’s hand with her own. Even with half wet hair from an evening bath and clad in nothing but a nightgown that was a touch too short, she looked like a vision. The rectoress had wanted to rapidly grab the rim of the loose linen shirt that she wore, to cover her stomach, but the palm of Yennefer’s hand rested on the edge of her sleeping trousers, making that impossible. She wondered if the placement was intentional. 

“I know. Nothing will.” Though Tissaia’s tone of voice was neutral, she felt her melancholy melt away at Yennefer’s touch. 

Shrugging, Yennefer laid down on her side, propping her head up on an elbow. Her purple eyes were trained on the scar as she said: “I could kiss it, if that would help.” 

The mere suggestion made something swirl in Tissaia’s stomach. Yennefer’s tone of voice had been casual, as if she was merely asking Tissaia about the weather. But they hadn’t even kissed on the mouth yet. Just that small kiss on Tissaia’s shoulder, the night they had confessed their feelings. Though the older mage’s mouth had gone dry since Yennefer’s request, she nodded. 

At first, Yennefer only laid her head on Tissaia’s stomach, humming shortly as a smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. She traced the scar once with her own hand. Tissaia sucked in a breath as she felt the roughened skin of Yennefer’s wrist on hers, realising that the woman had scars of her own there. When the younger mage lifted her head, Tissaia instantly missed the warmth and nearly cursed at herself for wanting it back so badly.

The feeling didn’t last for a few seconds. Yennefer pressed her lips against the highest part of the scar, just barely on Tissaia’s ribs. The soft contact, so tender and full of delicate care, made Tissaia feel like she would combust. Instead, goosebumps slowly began to form on her skin, making Yennefer chuckle when she pulled away and saw them. “You like that,” she stated.

  
“If your intent was to fluster me, Yennefer, you have succeeded,” Tissaia breathed. She closed her eyes in an attempt to give herself to purely the feeling of the kisses. “For how long have you dreamt of doing that?” 

Yennefer hummed against her skin as she slowly pressed another two kisses to the length of the scar. “With you? It didn’t occur to me,” she said in between them. “All that we suffered through, during and after Sodden… it just didn’t occur to me at all. However, I have… -” 

Taking a deep breath, she momentarily closed her eyes while kissing where the scar ended, just above Tissaia’s hip, lingering there for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed to take a century, for Tissaia. Just as she allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of those soft, soft lips against her skin, Yennefer let out a shuddering breath. She cleared her throat as she sat upright, tracing the scar with her hand and seeking out Tissaia’s blue eyes. “I have dreamed of becoming important to someone, someday,” she quietly said, as a confession somehow more impactful than the one of her love. 

Tissaia knew the reason. She knew where Yennefer came from and what her worst fear had always been, and would always be. There was, in fact, little about Yennefer that she  _ didn’t _ know. Still, the words coming from her lover’s mouth struck her more deeply than she had expected. Reaching for the younger sorceress’ hand with her own, she said: “Yennefer, you are impo-” 

“I know.” Yennefer’s mouth quirked into a smile as she leaned forward. “As you are to me.” She paused, lifting an eyebrow ever so slightly while cupping Tissaia’s cheek with the hand that had previously laid on her stomach. Her thumb came up to the corner of the rectoress’ mouth, resting there. 

She was asking for permission, and Tissaia understood. Somehow, it felt less intimate than kissing on the scar. Her mouth wasn’t an imperfection, after all. Leaning into the soft hand, she nodded, feeling a smile spread over her mouth. Tissaia shut her eyes as Yennefer closed the final bit of distance between them, but not before seeing Yennefer do the exact same. 

Their kiss was feather-light. Yennefer’s lips were soft, and they curled with the smile that undoubtedly intensified when Tissaia let go of a shaky breath. She pressed in a tiny bit deeper for a few seconds, relishing Yennefer’s mouth on hers, before leaning into the raven haired woman’s hand again, pulling away. They weren’t out of breath when they ended the kiss, but it was more than enough. 

Where Tissaia had expected to find a smirk on Yennefer’s face, she only saw a wide, happy smile. 

~~~

_ ‘Oh a dear, dear letter on my fond heart lies _

_ And it’s words of promise more than life, I prize  _

_ For it whispers “darling, soon I’ll fortune win”  _

_ And return, to claim you with the tide full in’ _

Triss softly sang, as she put her book away and stood up from the armchair. Her throat still ached a little when she did so, but her voice had mostly recovered. The scarred skin felt tough and itched in places, but it didn’t burn anymore. No, her wound had healed and her singing voice was returning. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, not as good as Philippa’s, for example. But the singing felt good. It felt soothing. 

On the other side of their room, a slightly modified guest room that they now inhabited together, Sabrina suddenly slammed a cup down onto the dressoir, where she had been taking off her earrings. Her entire form was tensed, a twitch travelling up and down her neck. “Sorry, dearest,” she said with a tight voice, gesturing to the glass, where an arachnid was now trapped underneath. “There was a s-spider.” 

Triss walked up to stand behind her wife, placing her hands on Sabrina’s shoulders to rub the tension out of them. She smiled proudly, as they could both see in the mirror that hung above the dressoir. Sabrina had been trying to get over her fear of insects for a while. She had said that she found it an absurd thing, carried over from her childhood and never properly looked at. Not until she had found, fallen in love with and married Triss, who had endless patience and had been helping her so tirelessly. The mind worm in her ear had only made the old fear spike up again, but progress was in the little things.

“Here,” Triss said as she slipped a piece of parchment underneath the cup, careful not to release the spider. “Would you like me to let it go outside for you this time?”

“No, I can do this. I need to get over this fear, I can’t run from it forever. I’ll just let this creature go somewhere far from here.” Sabrina closed her eyes as Triss placed an encouraging kiss just below her ear.

“But you needn’t do it alone,” she whispered.

Sabrina turned and looked into eyes which had never looked upon her with anything else other than genuine care and compassion. She gave a light squeeze to Triss’ warm, healer’s hands, then picked up the entrapped arachnid and made her way to the door. She paused to allow Triss to open it for her, since her hands were occupied.

“Since marrying you, I know I’m never alone.” Sabrina smiled as she exited their quarters, bravely carrying one of her worst fears in the palm of her hand.

~~~

Coral’s quill hovered above the etched parchment for a while, long enough to allow the unused ink to gather at the sharp point of the nib, until a drop of ink fell from the tip and stained it. The splatter spreading quickly snapped her out of her daze, and she put the quill back into the inkwell as she silently cursed. Putting her signature on it wouldn’t help, since Redania’s Lady Owl would know it was her from the handwriting alone. While waiting for the ink to dry, she tapped her metal fingers on her desk. She could feel it a lot better now, the sensation of touch which was not quite as muted as when she had first put on the prosthesis. 

Whispering a quick incantation for the parchment to roll itself up and seal itself with magic, she stood up and tugged her hair out of the loose bun. It reached well past her shoulder blades, falling down her back in waves of fiery red. She threw her tunic into a corner of her room, then her undershirt too, to get to the leather bands that held the metal arm in place. The belt across her chest was easier to undo than the smaller strap on her shoulder, but she managed both in a reasonable amount of time. Carefully, she removed her stump from the leather encasing and laid the arm on her nightstand. 

Then she walked to her desk and whisked the letter away to the castle Montecalvo. She had no idea if Philippa’s old postal system still worked. She also didn’t know if her old friend had since moved her desk and the letter would drop into another place entirely. In her bed, for example, or in the bath. Coral laughed briefly as she thought about Philippa getting a letter on her head while taking a bath, but the laugh faded when she realized that the mage might not even be in her castle. Tissaia had searched for a while, before giving up and contacting easier allies for Sodden Hill. But Philippa Eilhart was invisible to anything they had tried. Coral felt her annoyance turn into bitterness as the letter vanished with a soft blue glow. 

The letter was more or less Coral’s last hope at finding her. The other option was waiting until Philippa contacted  _ her _ , but the Lady Owl could be as fickle as the wind.

~~~

Tissaia traced the curve of Yennefer’s spine, as she laid on her side behind her lover. Softly, nearly reverently, she stroked over where it used to be crooked. From the pleased hum she earned at the movement, she guessed that Yennefer was enjoying it very much. It had struck Tissaia before, a day or two after they had confessed their love, how much she had missed the tenderness that came with a partner. However, she could never have guessed that Yennefer might have felt the same. She had been afraid that Yennefer would tire of her, as she had grown tired of Aretuza so many years ago, yet that fear had lessened, just as the pain of her healing wounds had.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she reached for a stray tress of black hair, tucking it behind Yennefer’s ear and tracing a finger along the shell of it. Beneath her hands, Yennefer chuckled. “That tickles,” she said, but didn’t move to bat away Tissaia’s curious hand. If anything, her soft smile was encouragement enough to continue. 

“Have you ever noticed that they’re pointed?” the rectoress quietly asked, stroking along the ear again, tapping lightly on the tip of it. 

With a slight frown, the younger mage turned to look at her. “They’re what?” 

“Your ears, they’re a bit pointed. It’s your blood… but I’d never have seen it if I wasn’t so close to you. It really is a miniscule detail.” 

“Well, I’m only an eight elf.” Yennefer rolled onto her back fully, pressing up right against Tissaia, relishing the contact. “But no one’s ever said that to me before. The pointed ears.” 

“Not everyone has learned to pay attention to the smallest details, Yennefer. And… dare I say that you let few people close enough to see them?” 

After letting out a slightly bitter chuckle, Yennefer sighed deeply as her tone became sullen. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Sometimes I just wonder how much time we’ll have to appreciate all those details you love.”    
  
She shook her head, wincing lightly while she sought out Tissaia’s eyes with her purple ones. From the creases in her forehead, the dark eyebrows that were pulled together concernedly, the rectoress could ascertain just how many thoughts were flitting through Yennefer’s mind. Her voice was tired when she spoke again. Tired and edged with a hint of anger. “Fringilla is still out there.  _ Nilfgaard _ is still out there. I’ll probably sound like an idiot, but I want to enjoy this for once.” 

“This?” Tissaia asked. She suspected to know what Yennefer meant, but a part of her just wanted to hear the words from her lover’s mouth. 

An incredulous look came her way, immediately followed by a roll of Yennefer’s eyes. “You know what I mean. This sugary sweetness that you seem to insist on cramming into every evening, morning and in between. Nilfgaard took too much already, at Sodden. They left you for dead, and I swear, if that happens again-” 

“Sodden was a hastily planned attempt to take out the mages that oppose Nilfgaard,” Tissaia cut in, unwilling to let Yennefer drown in her morose thoughts. She felt the urge to go back to stroking ears and skin as quickly as she could, but also knew that Yennefer was right in what she said. Their enemies  _ were _ still out there, and a cure for dimeritium poisoning wasn’t all they needed to defeat them. With a deep breath, she laid down on her back next to Yennefer, placing a hand on the woman’s stomach. “In hindsight, we are lucky that no more of us died that day. And I know that there are still mages out there who are willing to fight. Mages who weren’t at Sodden Hill, who we must convince to take up arms, even though they lacked motivation before. Sodden should be… an example. Not one we look back to fondly, but an example nonetheless.” 

One specific name went through Tissaia’s head as she spoke those words. A familiar sting in her chest accompanied it as she thought of her former friend.  _ Philippa _ . Coral had said that she was going to send a letter to the owl mage’s castle, but everyone, including the Skelligen woman herself, doubted that it would have much effect. Tissaia shook the thought from her mind as she continued: “We are better prepared now, Yennefer. I’m no longer helpless without my magic, thanks to your continuous sword fighting training. The mages of Aretuza aren’t so scattered anymore. We can recover from this and grow stronger.” 

“Only because you had to have a near death experience in order to be convinced of the fact that having some people around to take over your lessons every now and then is a good idea. Besides, Triss and Sabrina are married, so they are stuck together… and Coral has nowhere else to go but here.” Yennefer huffed as she laughed, yet Tissaia could hear the sincerity beneath her words. “But, the Chapter is still led by incompetent and selfish people. And I doubt you can sneak off to fight another big battle again.” 

Tissaia hummed at that. She knew that she had to choose her words carefully, especially about the Chapter and the Brotherhood. Explaining to Yennefer that it was a structure of order that had to be upheld, for its fall would throw the mages of the Continent into chaos and leave them vulnerable to the hate of the people, was bound to be met with tired groans and eyerolls. Yennefer knew it, for sure, but she was far too stubborn to admit that the Brotherhood had its purpose. For all of Yennefer’s fickle moments throughout the decades, that had been a consistent trait of hers. 

With a subtle sigh, one she knew wasn’t lost to her lover’s ears, Tissaia settled for something simpler. “We have each other now, Yennefer.” 

A hum of confirmation fell from the younger mage’s lips, as she turned on her side and settled with her head on Tissaia’s chest. At the contact of warm skin against her own, the rectoress swore that she could feel her heartbeat spike. Carefully, she laid a hand on Yennefer’s shoulder, her fingers just cupping the slope of her neck. Her breath left her throat in a shudder when she realized that yes, they now had each other. 

* * *

  
_(Title art by Greypaws, ft. the sheet music of the chapter 1 soundtrack by Braz! What a long way we've come)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triss is singing a song called Tide Full In, it's an English folk song. 
> 
> To be continued when season 2 is released! We've got many, many plans for a sequel. Thank you all for reading!   
> After this, we'll start writing a witcher!Yennefer fic, called Still Waters. It'll appear on ao3 soon enough :)

**Author's Note:**

> Greypaws:  
> After watching the Witcher series on Netflix and becoming completely enamored with Tissaia de Vries, brazenedminstrel and I started one of those "what if" type of conversations which naturally evolved into this. I am excited with the way this is turning out and we look forward to bringing you more. I will also be working on some art for this which will hopefully accompany the next update.
> 
> Social media of Greypaws:  
> https://www.deviantart.com/morttimus  
> https://greypaws6896.tumblr.com/
> 
> Braz:  
> As Greypaws said, we've both only watched the show, and then we started speculating and talking and being incredibly gay for Tissaia. Because of the kind of writers that we are, that meant nothing good for her. For now. She and Yen will get their soft scenes, I promise! 
> 
> I also wrote some soundtrack for the story! I composed it within a week and even my composing professor at the conservatory had something good to say about it :) 
> 
> Social media of Braz:  
> https://brazenedminstrel.tumblr.com/  
> https://soundcloud.com/user-768938233


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